Chaval Al Hazman
by FactofFiction
Summary: Tony prided himself in being a bit of an expert on all things Ziva David. And it was because of this expertise that he was now questioning just what her intentions were when she invited him to Israel. Tag 11x01 and continues into a true-to-character speculative AU.
1. Chapter 1

**_Hello you fine Tiva shippers. The school year has started again, and you know what that means: I'm writing fanfiction to avoid my homework! Anyway, this is little gem is what happens when I have been taking notes on story ideas for a while and one day I look at those notes and realize that I can knock out a whole bunch of them with one story if I just let Tony and Ziva stay in Israel for a few weeks and have a nice little vacation._**

 **I'll explain the title first because it gives a good basis for understanding the story: Chaval al Hazman is a Hebrew phrase that doesn't have a great English translation, but it basically means "shame on the time" which is used when talking about really great experiences or something that you wish you had more time to continue doing. So here, that is in reference to the trip to Israel as a whole, and the concept of time will come up more than once in our story.**

 **I'm only a couple of chapters into writing this story, but I'm so excited to start posting it that I just can't stop myself. So I have no idea how long this story will end up being. I have the plotline mapped out, but sometimes when you actually write things they end up being a lot longer than you anticipated so you end up with more chapters than you thought.**

 **Anyway, please enjoy my second multi-chapter fic. I obviously do not own any of the characters that have appeared in the show. But I do own all of the characters that I made up. So there's that.**

* * *

 _Where are you? Airport?_

 _Almost. Still okay that I come?_

 _Very. Safe Flight. Xo_

Tony shifted forward in his seat, staring down at the text messages. He squinted at the tiny pixelated words, as if his intense gaze would grant him the ability to truly read between the lines.

Because, if he was being honest, he had no idea what he was getting himself into here. Twelve hours ago it had all seemed so simple: he had feelings for her, she had feelings for him, and rule number 12 was no longer an issue as they were no longer coworkers. He had purchased this plane ticket anticipating a heartwarming reunion and some hot sex on a beach somewhere.

And yet, now that he was actually here, sardined into a tiny plane cabin that was starting to smell a little ripe after so long in the air, he wasn't so sure that was what would happen.

Tony prided himself in being a bit of an expert on all things Ziva David. They had worked together for years, seeing each other at their absolute best and worst, and always coming out on the other side. Their lives depended on being able to read each other's minds. But more than that, he had spent all of that time falling in love with her from across the bullpen. He watched her type. He watched her think. He watched her sleep sitting up in her chair after a long night of casework. He memorized every line in her face and every expression that she let cross it. He learned how to decipher her thoughts and secrets through her eyes alone. He soaked up as much Ziva-knowledge as possible, reveling in each new fact and discovery as he dove deeper into her heart and mind.

And it was because of this expertise, this expanse of knowledge that he had acquired over his 8 years as her partner, that he was now questioning the meaning behind her few short words before he hopped on the plane. Ziva had a tendency to run pretty hot and cold. She was wild and impulsive until her impulsivity risked too much of the things she holds dear.

And at this point, just about every single thing she holds dear is at risk. Her job (though it's hard to judge whether she can even consider it _her_ job at this point since they turned in their badges and had no guarantee that they would ever be able to return to the big orange room). Her family (which is so immediately intertwined with the previous thing that it is hard to tell where one ends and the other begins). Their friendship (a phrase he was growing increasingly uncomfortable with the more the thought about the weight of her hand on her chest and the intimate look in her eyes as she had fumbled over that word herself).

Basically, they were treading into dangerous waters with this trip. And he would only be half surprised if he got off the plane to find her standing by the gate with a return ticket in her hand, ready to ship him off before she made what she would consider to be a major mistake.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we are ready to begin our descent into Ben Gurion Airport in Tel Aviv, Israel. The weather today is beautiful with a high of 23 degrees and clear skies. We ask that you return all your seats to the upright position and keep your belts buckled as we descend. We should be touching down in 20 minutes time. Welcome to Tel Aviv, and thank you for flying AirCanada!"

Tony bit back a groan. He wanted more time. Just a little more time to exist in this suspended reality in which he and Ziva were both on the brink of finally crossing a significant line and also doomed to always wonder what could have been. It was excruciating, not knowing what he was going to find when he landed, but also so much better than knowing should he not like the answer.

Huh. He finally understood the concept of Schrodinger's Cat.

"Have you been to Israel before?" The petite woman next to him asked. He recognized a strong Midwestern accent.

"I have, actually. A couple of times."

She seemed to consider him for a few seconds before asking: "Business or pleasure?"

He hesitated, "Business. Normally. But this time… pleasure, I guess."

She nodded knowingly, a small smirk playing on her lips, "Tel Aviv is a surprisingly romantic city. I think it's something about the people. They're so open. Honest. Makes it hard to hold anything back."

Tony huffed out a laugh, "That's actually what I'm afraid of."

Her eyebrows furrowed, "You don't want her to admit she loves you?"

He turned to stare at the woman, eyes wide, "I… I never said that…"

She chuckled lightly at his surprise, "You're a handsome man, traveling to a foreign country all alone, with nothing in your carry on but magazines and breath mints. I have to assume you are chasing after a woman."

He winced a little. He wasn't fond of being in the hot seat. That's why he became a cop.

He sighed, "It's not really about what I want. It's about what she wants."

"And you're not sure she wants you?"

"I'm not sure what she wants anymore. I'm not sure she even knows."

The woman nodded a little, "Complicated woman. But I suppose that is probably why you love her."

The plane rocked a bit as the wheels made contact with the ground. Tony took the motion as a chance to turn away from the young woman, ultimately avoiding the unasked question. But as they taxied to the gate, he found his answer clawing up the back of his throat, forcing it's way farther up his tongue.

He finally turned back to the woman, just before he stood to retrieve his carry-on from the overhead, and let it out, "I do. More than anything."

He saw her smirk as he turned to exit. He didn't even care. It was out in the universe now. Whatever happened next, it was up to the gods - well, the gods and Ziva. He was just along for the ride.

* * *

It took Tony 90 minutes to find his way to Baggage Claim.

In his defense, Ben Guidon was much more confusing to navigate than the military hanger he normally flew into with the team. And the Customs guy was extremely thorough with his search once he realized he was dealing with a US Federal Agent. Tony almost wished he had brought his gun with him. Then the guy could have found it and moved on, instead of practically tearing apart his bag and making him walk through the body scanner 3 times.

But, alas, he did finally make it to the large grey room full of people yelling to each other and hugging through their reunions. He glanced at the board, noticing that his flight had already unloaded all of its baggage, and wondered if he was going to have to wander back into the airport to track down his suitcase, seeing as he clearly wasn't here to retrieve it in time.

He was just about to turn around and find the help desk when he noticed her standing against a far wall.

He wasn't sure what he was expecting her to look like when he arrived, but it certainly wasn't this. Her hair was pulled up in a ponytail, but it was much higher and curlier than the one she normally wore to work. Her usual sweater and cargo pants were replaced with some jean shorts and a black blouse that was so thin it was practically see-through, showing her simple white tank top underneath. He supposed he should have expected the dramatically different wardrobe considering the different climate, but it still sent a jolt through him. He wondered if anything else would be dramatically different about Ziva now that they were in Israel.

She had her arms crossed as she stared at the woman in front of her, who seemed to be recounting some sort of grand story. Ziva's face cracked into a smile at something the woman said, and he decided that they must be friends.

Ziva has _friends_.

Things were definitely different in Israel.

He made his way over to them slowly, finding it rather amusing to watch Ziva interact with this unknown woman. He saw her laugh, roll her eyes, and pretend to get angry, all while the woman seemed to continue on telling some story. When it was finally Ziva's turn to talk, he watched her lips move comfortably through her sentences, leading him to believe they must be speaking Hebrew. Nothing had ever rolled off her tongue quite the way her native language did.

He got rather close to them before Ziva noticed him. Her eyes flashed to him briefly, barely registering his features as she was so caught up in her conversation. But something must have stuck out to her because she soon looked back at him again and recognition crossed her face. She raised her eyebrows in his direction, but her lips pressed into a firm line.

If he was hoping to get some sort of read before they spoke, she wasn't going to give it to him.

It took the woman with her a long minute to realize she had lost her captive audience, but once she did, she turned to find out what was so interesting.

Ziva spoke first, once he was within earshot.

"Did you get lost?"

"A little," he shrugged as his eyes landed on the large black suitcase sitting at her feet, "You got my bag?"

"It was the only one left on the belt. Security was talking about seizing and searching it. They thought it was an explosive."

He let his eyes widen in mock horror, "Well, thank you for saving it. God forbid they rummage through my delicates."

The corner of her mouth twitched, hinting at a smile that she clearly did not want to reward his bad joke with. Instead, she gestured toward her friend with her head.

"Tony, I would like you to meet Dina Bashan. Dina, this is Anthony DiNozzo."

The woman, Dina, turned completely to get a better look at him. She examined him with a look that he could only compare to the one Ziva gave him 8 years ago. Hot and sultry but also cold and calculating. He briefly wondered if she had also worked for Mossad.

"I have heard so much about you, Anthony. But Ziva's descriptions do not do you justice."

Tony glanced Ziva's direction, unsure of how to respond. Normally he would take the bait and flirt back, but something about this seemed hollow. And, considering how up in the air their relationship was, he really didn't want to do anything to upset Ziva. They had always been dancing on eggshells, but now it felt like those eggshells were scattered across a layer of thin ice.

Luckily, Ziva did not make him respond at all. She laughed lightly at Dina's comment, going so far as to push herself all the wall and bump her hip against her friend's in a playful gesture.

When she spoke, she seemed to be addressing Tony, though she wasn't looking at him.

"Dina and I grew up together. She lived right across the hall."

"As often as you spent the night, we practically lived in the same apartment," Dina corrected.

Ziva just smiled.

Tony took a moment to really look at Dina Bashan. She was small, considerably shorter than Ziva, and had a very slight frame next to the strong and muscled one of her friend. There was no way she was actually Mossad. He found himself picturing the two of them as children, both small and fragile. What different paths their lives ended up taking.

An announcement was made over the intercom. It was in Hebrew.

Both of the women seemed to react to the announcement, looking at each other wistfully.

"That is my father's flight. I should probably go meet him at the gate. He is not as sharp as he used to be," Dina pulled Ziva into a quick hug as she spoke, "But it was great to see you, Zivi. You really must come to Esperanto with us. I am sure the others would love to catch up with you."

Dina leaned in a little closer and lowered her voice, "And you _must_ show him off. He is too handsome to keep cooped up in your apartment."

Ziva's eyes sparkled with amusement, but the hard line of her lips showed her hesitation, "I don't know…"

"Then I will go over your head," She released Ziva's shoulders and turned to Tony, "Anthony, a group of us are all going to a rooftop bar to celebrate a birthday tonight. You must convince Ziva to join us. And you must escort her."

Ziva stepped forward, "Tony had a long flight. I do not think he wants to spend his first night-"

"I'm in," he said confidently. They had gone out for drinks hundreds of times back in DC. This bar outing seemed like the perfect way to spend his first night with her in Israel. Something familiar that kept them from being alone. Something to take the pressure off.

"Great!" Dina exclaimed, turning back to Ziva, "You were right. I do like him."

And with that, the small woman dashed away and toward the large sign guiding her toward the gates, leaving the two former-partners alone in the middle of the large crowded airport.

Ziva sighed, giving Tony a disapproving look as she reached down and grabbed the handle of his suitcase and started pulling it behind her. He followed her out a nearby door, making a point of not hanging his head in shame. He hadn't done anything wrong. A night on the town would be good for them. Both of them.

* * *

"Okay, I gotta ask. Are we entering an old Mossad safe house? Or one of Eli's places?" Tony asked as he slid the thin jacket off of his shoulders and shoved it inside his carry-on bag. He stepped out of the car, turning to see Ziva had already retrieved his luggage from the trunk and was rounding the corner toward him as he spoke.

She laughed, and he found it such a relief to hear. Her mood had lifted considerably on the drive through the city (though he still wasn't sure her mood was necessarily low this morning, just after he agreed to plans she didn't seem keen to keep) and he had taken the chance with the risky joke just to test the waters. They came back warm. Perhaps their day can be salvaged.

"It is neither. I lived here between missions starting when I was 18."

He wasn't sure what to say to that, so he took in the surroundings, noting the streets lined with signs for art galleries and coffee shops.

"Nice neighborhood."

She smiled as she looked around with him, "I always found Neve Tzedek charming. I believe it was my aunt who called it the Soho of Tel Aviv."

"That wouldn't happen to be the famous Aunt Nettie, would it?"

She laughed as she lifted his suitcase into the curb, "It was not. But Nettie is also fond of the area."

He squinted at her, "How many aunts do you have?"

"Three. Well, Four if you count my father's sister. But I was never very close with her."

"So Nellie was related to your mom?"

She nodded, "My mom had many siblings. She had three older brothers, an older sister, and two younger ones. All of my uncles have passed away. But Adina, Netayana, and Hinda are all still alive."

Tony trailed behind her as she pulled his suitcase down an alleyway, stopping in front of a door and fishing a key out of her pocket.

"And your other Aunt. On your dad's side. What's her name?"

Ziva looked back at him as she unlocked the door and pushed it open, "You are full of questions today."

He smiled down at her, summoning all of his DiNozzo charm, "I like learning about you, Ziva."

He drew out her name, causing her eyebrows to draw down in annoyance.

She looked him up and down for a long moment as she held the door open, but didn't give him the room to go through it.

She nodded slightly, as if affirming her own internal decision, "We can pull out a copy of my family tree later. First, let's get you upstairs."

She stepped to the side and he led the way up the single staircase in front of them. After a couple of flights, they can to a platform with two doors, one on either side. She stepped in front of him, pulling out another key and unlocking the door to the right. She stepped inside without a word, leaving him trailing behind her once again. He set his suitcase inside of the door and turned to close it behind him.

When he turned back, he found Ziva standing in the middle of the open concept living room, her fingers making quick work of the buttons on her shirt. He looked around the apartment, taking in the clean white walls stretching from the roomy kitchen into the living room, the two spaces only separated by a breakfast bar. He spotted the opening to the hallway across from him, in which he could see two doors with a long table and a hanging mirror nestled between them. The front wall had three huge windows on it, which allowed for maximum daylight to brighten the small space. His eyes landed back on her just in time to see her slide the thin fabric of her button up off her shoulders. She draped it over the back of the couch before turning to look at him.

They stared at each other for a minute, as if they were each trying to figure out just what they were supposed to do now.

He thought of a million things to say to her. Some of them were sappy, about how he thought she looked even more beautiful under the Israeli sun, especially with the way it was streaming through the large windows. Others were dirty, like asking if she wanted him to remove his shirt as well, just so she didn't feel so left out. And the rest were just stupid, like telling her that, now that he was here, he could finally breathe again. How being apart from her, especially with all the chaos of work and the intensity if the Parsons investigation, had been like living without his left lung. Or without his heart. Telling her that he had felt her absence like a physical weight in his chest and now that he was with her he felt as light as a feather.

But none of those things seemed like the right thing to say. So he decided to lob the ball into her court.

"So," he started, taking a couple of steps into the apartment, but still standing at least 10 feet away from her, "Now that you have me here, what are you gonna do with me?"

Her eyes darkened at his question, and it took him more than a second to realize that it wasn't anger or sadness burning in them. It was desire. A shiver ran up his spine at the sight.

But, ironically, it seemed to be his slight movement that broke the spell. She blinked a few times, and the darkness was gone, replaced by a seemingly grim determination.

"I will show you to the bedroom. You look exhausted."

"The bedroom? There is only one?"

He had hoped his unspoken accusation would leave her at least a little embarrassed, but instead, she became annoyed.

"Yes, there is only one. It is a one bedroom apartment."

"Guess that makes the sleeping arrangements pretty self-explanatory," he kept his eyebrows raised as he spoke.

That seemed to annoy her more. She shoved a finger in the direction of the couch, "I think you will find the couch to be surprisingly comfortable."

"Then why are you showing me to the bedroom?"

"So you can take a nap. And I do not have to worry about waking you so easily."

He squirmed a little. Her logic was too sound for him to poke holes in. So he fired back with the first thing that came to his mind.

"I'm not even tired."

She gave him that look. The one that she always gave him when she caught him in a lie. Sometimes before he even knew he _was_ lying.

"Yes, you are."

He shook his head. She rolled her eyes.

But when she turned and started walking down the small hallway across the room, he still found himself following her. He even grabbed his suitcase and brought it with him.

Her bedroom was simple. The walls were white, much like the walls in the living room had been. She had a large bed, probably a king, resting in the center of the far wall with a very soft looking grey comforter. There was a mountain of pillows propped against the headboard. That much, he had expected. She had a similar mountain on her bed in DC. There were side tables on either side of the bed, and a wooden wardrobe in the back corner. There was another door toward the front of the room that he assumed led to her bathroom. He wondered if she had left that door closed on purpose. It only made him want to see it more.

She fluttered around the room, motioning to key things he might need: extra blankets, places to plug in his phone, a spot to place his suitcase.

"I'm taking a nap, Zi, not staying at a bed'n'breakfast."

She paused at the nickname, standing up straighter and bringing a hand up as if she wanted to run it through her hair. She settled for tightening her ponytail.

"Right. Well, I'll be out in the living room if you need me. Or, you can call me or whatever."

He nodded a little awkwardly as she made her way closer to him, barely stepping past him to get to the door and close it behind her.

He sighed once she was gone. It hadn't been an ideal reunion, but it also hadn't been horrible. She let him stay, which was almost more than he had been expecting. Now he was here, in her apartment, and in her bedroom. He figured that was a pretty big improvement from where he had been 24 hours ago.

He tugged down his pants and mosied his way over to the side of the bed. He slid beneath the covers, hissing when he realized just _comfortable_ her bed was. It was soft in all the right places, and firm just where he wanted to be. Not to mention, it all smelled like her. He had a fleeting thought about how he would have to come up with an excuse to get back into this bed while on this trip, and how he bet it was even more comfortable with her laying in it.

But the thought was interrupted by a wave of exhaustion that had him peacefully sleeping in minutes.

Turns out she was right. He was exhausted.


	2. Chapter 2

**Hello beautiful people.**

 **I know... it's been a while. Honestly, this story (and every other story I was working on for that matter) really got pushed to the back burner by my class schedule. But I was reading through some other chapters the other day and realized that I really need to get this one posted (not my fav, tbh) before I can move on to some reallllllly good ones I have coming up. Particularly chapter 3. Get excited for that one.**

 **Anyway, here is chapter 2 of Chaval Al Hazman. I hope y'all enjoy. Please leave reviews! tell me what you think about the direction this is going! I love seeing what you guys think is going to happen next!**

* * *

It was almost 5 o'clock when he finally stumbled his way out of her bedroom and into the living room. She was sitting on the couch, her nose so deep in a book he was certain she hadn't heard him emerge.

Well, certain until she spoke, her eyes never leaving the page, "Sleep well?"

He just grumbled as he made his way to her side, plopping down on the couch much closer to her folded legs than necessary.

He saw her move to put the book down on the side table, and when she straightened out, one of her arms lifted up to lay loosely against the back of the couch, almost as if she had meant to slide it across his shoulders but stopped just short.

"That good, huh?" a lazy smirk spread across her lips as she examined his messy hair and the faint seam lines on his face.

He leaned his head back into the ridiculously soft cushion behind him and peered up at her under his thick lashes. She had let her hair down at some point in the afternoon, and it was now cascading messily down her shoulders, obstructing his view of the skin under her tank top. Her eyes were a little cloudy, and he recognized it as the look she got when her brain was transitioning from one language to another. He guessed the book she had been reading was probably in Hebrew.

So he let out a long, wistful sigh as a means of buying her a little time to finish turning on her English-brain. He shifted his head a little higher on the cushion so he could look straight up at the ceiling, "I'm gonna miss that bed."

All the movement of his head had landed it much closer to her hand on the back of the couch than he intended. He felt his hair brush up against it slightly as he settled in, and he almost moved away for fear of overwhelming her with his closeness. Almost.

But if she was overwhelmed, she didn't show it in the slightest as her fingers found their way to the crown of his head and started playing with the short hairs there.

He looked over at her out of the corner of his eye, not wanting to move and break whatever moment they seemed to be having. Her eyes were still trained on his face, and there was a certain amount of mischief in them as she seemed to consider his apparent preference for her sleeping quarters over his own.

Her fingers moved farther up his scalp, tugging and twisting their way through the longer hairs on top of his head, all while her eyes remained trained on his face.

"Perhaps we can trade one of these nights," she suggested.

He let his head turn slightly so he could get a better look at her expression without disrupting her work on his hair. Her eyes were absolutely smoldering, a diabolical mixture of lust and amusement. She was teasing him. Well, two can play at that game.

He moved his arm, the one closest to her that he had been keeping intentionally close to his body in order to avoid any awkwardness, and let it lay completely across her lap. He spread his fingers out across her thigh, trying to create as many points of contact as he could for their bare skin.

If she was thrown by his actions, she didn't show it. The only hint that she had even noticed his move was the smirk that tugged at the corner of her lips. A smirk that definitely sparked something deep inside him as he couldn't seem to look away from her soft, plump lips that he could have sworn were inching closer and closer to his. His hand grew sweaty where it was laying on her leg. She didn't seem to mind.

His plan was backfiring. She was completely in control, and he was the one being reduced to a ball of hormones.

Abort mission.

He used his other hand to pinch his own leg, discreetly but painfully. It was the only way to pull himself out of his Ziva fueled trance.

He sat up a little straighter on the couch, and her fingers fell from his hair. He forced himself not to hiss at the loss of contact. He did, however, manage to keep his arm draped across her lap. So all was not lost, he supposed.

Even though he was the one to move, she still seemed to be the one to recover first.

"Are you hungry?"

He nodded, letting the motion finish clearing his muddled thoughts, "Starving."

She glanced down at a watch he hadn't noticed she was wearing.

"If we leave now, we will have some time to pick up dinner before we have to come back here and get ready."

He racked his brain for some memory of what their evening plans were. He came up empty.

"Ready for what?"

She gave him an incredulous look, "Esperanto. The bar you told Dina we would go to."

That sparked some semblance of a memory, "Right, right. The bar you didn't want us to go to."

She lifted her chin, her brain clearly scrambling to come up with some excuse as to why she had wanted to avoid the outing. She settled on, "I just think we are too old to be going to such places."

It was his turn to pull out the incredulous look, "You're 31."

"But you aren't."

He half laughed at her attempted low-blow, "No, but I am a tourist. Here on vacation. With a hot woman. I'm trying to relax and have a little fun. Nobody will be questioning why I'm there."

While her eyes remained void of any sign that his point had gotten across, he did feel the hand that had been tangled in his hair before come to rest gently on the back of his neck, a small reward for his attempt at flattery.

"Look, Tony. My friends… well, _these_ friends in particular… they can be a little…"

"Loud? Obnoxious? Predatory?"

She gave him a half-hearted glare before finishing, "Embarrassing. Especially when they drink."

He nodded knowingly, "Then it is a good thing I'll be there. You can spend some time with your friends, and when they get to be too much, we can slip away and head back here. And if they ask you why you left early, you can blame it on your old fart of a date. Say I couldn't keep up."

She didn't flinch at his use of the word date. If anything, she seemed to get impossibly closer to him, her hand on the back of his neck feeling more insistent as she brushed her thumb over the skin there.

She considered him for a long moment, weighing the validity of his sentiment and playing out the scenario in her head to see if he was leading her into a trap. Seemingly pleased with her own results, she let her eyes slide down to his lips as she barely mumbled, "You are not an old fart, Tony."

He smiled, a full DiNozzo grin with shining eyes to match, "Tell me that again when I'm passed out on this couch by 10 pm."

She laughed lightly, looking over at her watch again and running through some mental math.

"Okay, we have wasted enough time. Now you will have to fetch us some dinner while I shop."

His brows furrowed, "Shop for what?"

She let a small smirk tug at her lips, "I need a dress for tonight."

And with those simple words, his brain went completely blank. He knew a lot about the psychology of women, and the biggest thing he had learned: when a woman buys a new dress for a date, it means they want you to take it off of them at the end of the night.

Ziva seemed to notice his inability to think or move for himself right now, as she slowly untangled herself from his grip and made a big show of pulling him up and off the couch. She then grabbed her black blouse from where it had been resting all afternoon and pulled that back over her shoulders as she turned to grab her purse off the kitchen counter. He followed behind her numbly, just trying to avoid any accidental collisions because if he felt her touch him right now he would never even make it to the bar tonight. It wasn't until she was at the door, hand on the knob, ready to leave, that she turned back to look at him and smirked.

"Tony?"

"Hm."

"You might want to put on pants."

* * *

Tony squinted up at the sign above him, trying to remember what the name of the boutique was that Ziva said she was heading to. They had parted ways a couple of blocks down, her heading toward a place she knew she would find a dress and him heading to a small cafe she said had great pizza by the slice. She had left him with nothing more than an order for a deli sandwich and a name of a store at which to find her once he had gotten the food. Of course, his mind had really only zoned in on the food part.

He thought about calling her, but his hands were pretty full at the moment. He looked around for a bench or something to set all his take-out boxes on and settled for the ledge of a cement half wall that lined a group of trees closer to the street. He set everything down gingerly as to ensure it wouldn't fall over. He was almost positive he would not be able to find his way back to the cafe without the help of Ziva, and he knew that by the time they met up again it would be too late to get more food. And he didn't want either of them going into a night of drinking without something in their stomachs. He was much too old to be wandering around the streets of a foreign city looking for a cab because they got too tipsy.

Once all the food was set down, he fished through his back pocket for his phone. As he pulled it out, there was a small gust of wind that blew the bag of potato chips he had gotten for Ziva right off of the pile. He bent down to pick it up as he scrolled through his contacts in search of her number.

As he moved to stand, he became acutely aware of a pair of legs right beside him. As he straightened out, he realized those legs belonged to a woman, probably a year or two older than Ziva, and that she was looking right at him.

Realizing that she must have spoken and he had just completely missed it, he managed out a brilliant: "Huh?"

She spoke again, a long stream of distinctly Hebrew syllables that he was able to recognize, but certainly not translate.

He looked around quickly, praying that his beautiful translator would appear and help him figure out what the lady wanted, but he didn't see her anywhere.

So he did the most American thing in the situation: he grunted loudly and told her in plain English that he didn't speak Hebrew.

Thankfully, she understood him.

"Oh! I am sorry. I was just asking if you wanted a little help."

The woman's accent was very heavy, but her English was quite good. He was relieved.

"No, I think I'm… actually... do you know of any place around here where one could buy a cocktail dress?"

This seemed to pique the woman's interest, and she took a step closer to Tony. He forced himself to stay in place instead of stepping away from her like he wanted to. He knew physical boundaries were very different abroad, and he didn't want to offend this woman by showing that he was uncomfortable.

"Are you shopping for a date?"

He shrugged, not caring enough to correct her error, "You could say that."

She seemed satisfied with that answer, "Well, behind you is Leonardo's. They have great dresses. Very classy. Sophisticated."

He opened his mouth to tell her that he was pretty sure that was the place he was looking for, considering that was Ziva's style, but the woman took another step closer to him and started talking to him in a stage whisper.

"But there is a place down the street called Les Bourgeoises. They have much more… enticing choices. Something to help get your heart racing," she gestured her head in the direction she mentioned, then seemed to take yet another step closer to him, "I could show you the way."

She took a final step closer to him and he could not help his knee-jerk reaction to step back. When he did so, his foot came into contact with something, and he found himself stumbling around for a moment before two small, familiar hands wrapped around his arm and helped him steady himself.

The hands let go of him as soon as he gained his balance, and he looked over to find a very unimpressed Ziva beside him.

"Making friends, Tony?" Her tone was light, but her eyes were darting between him and the woman, assessing the situation with trained precision.

"She was just helping me figure out which store you were in. I forgot what you told me before."

Ziva nodded curtly, her eyes settling on the woman after seeming to determine Tony's innocence.

The woman looked at Ziva as well, before sliding her eyes back to Tony.

Just then, he felt a hand, the same small and familiar hand that had caught him just a few seconds ago, brush against his arm. It moved down along his side, finally finding his own hand and lacing their fingers together.

He was so surprised by the gesture, he couldn't stop himself from looking down, just making sure he wasn't imagining it But there it was, her delicate fingers occupying the spaces between his large ones. He smiled slightly to himself.

That must have caught the attention of the woman. She looked at their hands, made a small scoffing sound, then looked up at Ziva again.

"Leonardo's," the woman said as she saw the bag dangling on her arm, "Figures."

Ziva opened her mouth to reply, but the woman had already turned and started sulking down the street.

They watched her leave for a few seconds before turning to look at each other.

"Got everything you need?" He asked, not in the mood to discuss what had just happened.

She held up her bag, "All set. You got the food?"

He gestured to the small pile of boxes beside him. He felt her move to grab her share of the boxes but immediately stopped her, fidgeting with the pile for a moment before bending down and picking it all up with one arm, balancing it against his side precariously.

She eyed him for a moment but didn't say anything, so he made a gesture for her to lead the way since he wasn't sure which direction they had come from. She started pulling him to the right, and they made their way back to the apartment with relative silence, only the occasional comment about a place they needed to stop by soon or an errand she needed to run. She didn't let go of his hand until they were back at her door.

* * *

An hour or so later, he was fixing his hair in the hall mirror. He messed with it several times, spiking it up, then laying it back down, then finger brushing to one side, then to the other. He finally settled on a slightly brushed to one side look that he felt made him look mature, but also down to have a good time.

He caught sight of his own hand in the mirror - the one Ziva had grabbed earlier. Did it look different? It sure felt different. It felt oddly cold and empty. Like now that it knew what it was like to be wrapped around hers, it would no longer be content on its own. He absently wondered if this was what his whole body would feel like once he knew what it was like to kiss her, to touch her, to sleep beside her. _If_ he ever got to know what those things felt like. _If_.

He heard the bedroom door open, and he forced himself to keep his eyes trained on the mirror. He fumbled with his top buttons, trying to decide how many he should leave open. Was 2 too little skin? Was 3 too much? His chest hair really was his showpiece, but at the same time, he didn't want anybody to get the impression that he was looking to pick somebody up at the bar. He already knew who he was going home with tonight.

He felt more than saw Ziva stand beside him, her eyes roaming over him for several seconds longer than necessary before she let out a small frustrated sigh.

"You look like a fat boy," she mumbled as she grabbed his shoulders and turned him to face her.

He looked down at her, smirking at the little crease between her eyebrows. She seemed very concerned over his appearance tonight.

"Frat boy," he corrected.

"Whatever," she said, exasperation evident as she closed up his third button and moved to adjust his collar.

He didn't tease her anymore, instead just letting her silently fuss over him. She ran her fingers through his hair, fixing it to her liking before smoothing her hands over the front of his shirt.

"There," she whispered as her eyes roamed his face, "That is better."

"Better for who?" he asked, the smirk growing.

He watched her eyes slide down to his lips, twitching slightly before she tore them away and met his again.

"Better for everyone."

"You must really want your friends to like me."

She removed her hands from where they had been resting on his chest, though it seemed like the action was rather reluctant.

"Of course I want them to like you, Tony. I want you to like them as well."

"Any friend of yours is a friend of mine."

She raised her eyebrows at him, finding something about his statement amusing. Then, just as quickly as it came, the amused expression vanished and it was replaced with a mischievous one.

"I need help zipping up," she said as she slowly turned, gathering her hair over her shoulder and showing him the mostly zipped, but not fastened back of her dress, "Do you mind?"

Oh, he minded.

A million thoughts raced through his head as he took a half step closer and moved to grab the tiny zipper. He was thinking that the neckline of this dress did not need to be as high as it was, almost as if she had picked it specifically so he would have to help her with it. He was also thinking that the soft, velvety material was hugging her hips in a way that was so sickeningly sweet, he almost didn't want her to be seen in it (almost). And finally, he was thinking that this dress was entirely too tight to wear a slip underneath, so if he just simply pulled the zipper down instead of up, he would be granted access to a whole lot of soft skin that he had never had the pleasure of running his fingers over before.

All thoughts aside, he pulled the zipper up and fastened the small clasp at the base of her neck. His fingers lingered there, but not as long as he had assumed they would, and when he pulled them back, he saw her shoulders shake with the slightest hint of a shiver. It made him feel powerful.

So he opened his mouth and asked the question that had been plaguing him since they got back from the shops, "Why did you grab my hand in front of that woman on the street?"

She visibly froze, her back still to him, and for a second he wondered if he had ruined the whole night. If that one simple question was enough to halt whatever momentum they had managed to gather throughout the day - hell - throughout the past 8 years.

But Ziva recovered, even if it did take a second or two longer than he would have expected. She turned toward him, her hair falling into place on her back and her eyes shining with an openness he had not grown quite accustomed to he had seen enough to recognize. The sight of it opened a pit in his stomach. This might be their moment.

"Because she was flirting with you."

She said it so simply as if it was the most obvious thing.

"And?" he asked. He was fishing.

She took the bait, standing up just a little straighter and lifting her chin, showing she wasn't going to back down on this.

"And I was… what is it they say in the movies?"

He stayed silent, letting her finish for herself.

"Oh. Dibs. I was calling dibs."

Something about her confession was funny to him. It wasn't the message - hell, the message was making his knees feel a little weak. But the _delivery._ To a guy as fixated on movies as him, delivery is everything.

But, thankfully, he had the good sense to bite back his laugh. But, his amusement was still dripping from his voice when he spoke.

"You were calling dibs? On me?"

Her lips spread into a wide, cheeky smile.

"Yes. Is that a problem?"

"Problem? No. Not a problem at all."

Her eyes trailed down his body, appraising him one last time before turning to walk away.

She tossed a casual "Good" over her shoulder as she did so, and he watched as she sauntered down the hall and out into the living room to put on her heels.

Once she was out of sight, he forced himself to turn back to the mirror. He looked at his hair, his shirt, his collar. Everywhere he remembered her fixing and adjusting him. Of course, she had managed to pull his whole look together in just a few seconds, while he had struggled to do it over the past hour.

 _Where would I be without you?_

He didn't realize he had spoken the words out loud until he heard her snickering from down the hall. He gave himself one last approving look in the mirror before turning and following the sound of her laughter.


	3. Chapter 3

**Look at me uploading two chapters in less than a month. Finals always kick my fan fiction butt into high gear as I use these fictional characters to fill the void in my life that stress and anxiety seem to accentuate. Just a few notes I want to make on this chapter:**

 **1\. It's long. Like 3x longer than the last two. Sorry about that. Or you're welcome. Whichever works.**

 **2\. This is the first glimpse you are going to get at my characterization of a younger Ziva. I have this major headcanon that Ziva was a total wild child (hello middle child syndrome) until her time in the IDF and then her Mossad training. Since this is a very Ziva-Centric fic, I will be exploring this headcanon a lot throughout the duration of the story. Sorry if you completely disagree with my vision in this aspect.**

 **3\. I always do my best to research cultural things in my stories. Like the bar in this is based off a real bar in Tel Aviv that I found online. Tubi 60 is a real drink. But some things are just not available online, or cannot be spun to fit my narrative when based on complete fact. Therefore, please take some of my cultural references and language translations with a grain of salt (this becomes even more relevant in some upcoming chapters). I may be called FactofFiction, but I still take some liberties with my stories.**

 **And finally 4. There are aspects of the true canon that flow over into my story. You will encounter one of them in this chapter. Consider it my take on how these events could have occurred in my AU. Therefore, not entirely my original idea. I know that. It's fan fiction, y'all. It's not that deep.**

 **Disclaimer: I own none of the characters in the CBS drama NCIS. But there are original characters in this story as well. Please respect them as my intellectual property.**

 **Okay, cool. Enjoy chapter 3 (Solid Tiva chapter, if I do say so myself). And please leave me a review! They seriously make my day and motivate me to continue with stories like these. Let me know what you think is next for our adorable little lovers. Any guesses on who we meet in chapter 4?**

 **Happy reading!**

* * *

"I can't believe you got carded," Tony grumbled as he slid into the open bar seat next to Ziva.

She smirked as she turned to flag down the bartender. She said something to the young man in rushed Hebrew that he safely assumed was a drink order.

Then she looked back at him, "The drinking age is not really enforced in Israel. If the bouncer wanted to see my ID, it was probably for some reason other than my age, Tony."

"Yeah," he grumbled, "It was probably to check out your address so he could swing by later after he thinks I've dropped you off."

She laughed, enjoying his misery, "Well, if that was his plan, he must have been quite disappointed when he realized I live in DC."

He thought of a couple of witty comebacks, mostly having to do with him flying over 5,000 miles to see her and that guy having no problem doing the same, but before he could voice any of them, the bartender was placing two drinks on the open bar.

Ziva gave the young man a smile and reached for hers, lifting the glass to her lips and taking a healthy sip. Tony stared down at the one in front of him. It was a bright blue color, and he swore the ice cubes inside were glowing green.

She was halfway through a second sip before she noticed he hadn't even touched his. She reached out and moved the glass closer to him.

"Drink up. Trust me, my friends are much easier to handle once you have had a couple of these."

He continued to stare at the neon colored drink, "What is it?"

She just chuckled, "Try it. You will like it. I promise."

He was still hesitant as he palmed the shallow glass and lifted it to his lips.

Tequila. She had ordered him a drink with Tequila. And a lot of it. He felt it hum through his body, culminating at the base of his head and giving him a surprisingly quick buzz. He went in for another sip, and he faintly heard Ziva chuckle yet again as he did so.

Something about this display must have been amusing to the bartender, as the young man had circled back and was now saying something to Ziva in the local language. She laughed, responding to him in kind, even going so far as to make a general gesture in Tony's direction.

He finished off his drink right around the time she finished hers, and just seconds later, another round appeared in front of them. He looked up to see the bartender smiling and winking at Ziva before walking away. For her part, Ziva barely glanced at the guy before she picked up her second drink and started sipping on it, considerably slower this time.

Even so, Tony found himself scooting forward on his seat, snaking a hand around the back of her chair and moving close enough that their legs were touching. Ziva started to react to his proximity, turning toward him slightly, but he acted quickly so she couldn't block him. He ducked his head down, pressing his lips to the smooth skin behind her jaw, just below her ear. He lingered there for a second longer than necessary, his nose buried in her curls, before leaning back to get a look at her face.

She turned slightly and he caught her eyes wide with surprise. She caught her lower lip between her teeth as she canvased their immediate area for witnesses. PDA got her all flustered. He found that cute. He thought of a hundred different ways he could spark this same reaction in the future.

"What was that for?" She asked, taking another sip of her drink. She had regained her composure, and her expression was one of pure amusement when she finally looked his way.

"Oh, you know," he shrugged slightly, and the action gave him an excuse to slide his hand off of the chair and rest it low on her back, "Just calling dibs."

She smiled knowingly as she let her hand fall off the bar and land on his knee.

Tony looked back up, meeting the eyes of the bartender and finding it oddly satisfying that the young man was watching them. Well, it actually wasn't that odd. Few things are more enjoyable than being with the most beautiful woman in the bar. Rubbing it into the other men around happens to be one of them.

He turned back just in time to see Ziva tilting her head back and letting the rest of her second drink slide down her throat. When she went to put the glass down, he saw her body sway slightly, causing him to press his hand a little firmer against the fabric under his palm in an attempt to steady her.

The bartender walked by again, but Ziva was too busy squinting into one of the overhead lights to notice him. Tony caught his attention, though, and he made a quick motion with his hand signaling that he wanted a fountain drink this round, and after that, they were good on the drinks, at least for now.

When the guy dropped off his soda, Ziva looked up at Tony quizzically.

"You are not drinking?"

He shook his head, "I am. Just sparingly. I'm your DD."

"You do not have to do that. We can always call a cab."

He shook his head again, "No. I'm your date. That means I'm responsible for getting you home."

"I am not going to get _that_ drunk, Tony. You do not have to worry about it."

He shrugged it off, not wanting to admit that his tolerance had dwindled considerably since college. He had managed to keep up with her many times when they went to bars in DC, but the morning after was never pretty. And he figured that waking up to him hunched over her toilet at 3 am was a good way for her to break out of the sexy little spell they had managed to fall under tonight. No way was he risking that.

"Not worried. Just not really drinking. But you enjoy. I'll take care of you."

She considered him for a moment, her hand still on his knee.

Finally, she leaned a little closer, her voice dropping a whole octave as she mumbled, "Are you going to tuck me into bed, Tony?"

He gulped.

Ziva David was sexy. Nobody would ever deny that fact. _Especially,_ Ziva herself. She had a level of confidence and self-awareness that made Tony's head spin. She always knew how her actions were going to affect men. She knew just what to do to get the reaction she wanted. It was a convenient trick in the field. Sometimes even a case changing one. Tony had found himself pitying more than one sad schmuck who fell victim to her hot ninja mind tricks.

But he realized in this moment that he had been so wrong. No man should be pitied for the time he spent on the opposite end of Ziva's charm. Because sitting at this little bar, her hand on his thigh and a carefully constructed question hanging in the air between them, whirling around his head and sparking all sorts of thoughts that would _definitely_ be considered red light behavior, he felt incredible. His brain felt numb with the pleasure of having her attention, of feeling her eyes on him and only him in a crowded bar. He felt like his whole body was buzzing with the effect.

Who needs alcohol, anyway? He could get drunk on this. Drunk on her.

Ziva didn't wait long before deciding he wasn't going to respond to her little inquiry. She smirked up at him, her eyes shifting from smoldering to playful as she turned to order another drink, this one with what seemed to be a much longer name than the last.

Just as she was finishing her order, a body slid into the seat on the other side of her.

"And I will have the opposite of whatever she is having," a deep male voice bellowed, "Because beautiful women have the worst taste in booze."

Ziva's head snapped to the side just as an arm snaked its way around her shoulders and pulled her closer. Tony hunched, ready to pounce should he get any indication that the new contact was unwelcome, but relaxed when he heard her laugh.

"You are the one to talk. At least I never went past my first sip on that Tubi you tried to serve me."

"Ah, Zivi, you know it is rude to talk about ethnic drinks in the company of a foreigner," the man, with his arm still around Ziva, leaned forward so that he could address Tony, "Tubi 60 is a local spirit developed here a few years ago."

Ziva took her turn looking at Tony, "It is disgusting."

"Oh, but you did not have a hangover the next day, did you?" the man asked as he looked back down at her.

"Because I didn't drink it!"

"Oh, whatever. It is also rude not to introduce your date to your best friend."

Ziva started looking around, "You are correct, but I do not see Maya anywhere."

The man removed his arm from around her and placed both of his hands on his chest in mock pain, "Oh, my beautiful Ziva. How your words hurt me. And to think, I held your hand while you lost your virginity."

Ziva's jaw dropped in horror, "You did not!"

The man seemed to soften, "Well, not your _virginity_ virginity, of course. But your-"

"Okay. Tony, this is Raphael Levit. Raphi, Tony DiNozzo."

The man, Raphael, held out his hand for Tony to shake.

"It is so nice to meet you, Tony. Ziva has told us all so much about you."

"Likewise," Tony responded dumbly, and Ziva sent him a quick glare to show she had noticed his white lie. Ziva had never mentioned a Raphael. She had also never mentioned a Dina. Or a Maya. He was started to wonder just how many people in Ziva's life he had never even heard of.

"Well, we reserved a large booth in the back. We were all just on our way to sit down when we noticed you guys were already here. I was voted to be the welcoming committee, and to make the final judgment as to whether or not your American cop would be invited to hang out with all of us."

"And what is your verdict?" Ziva asked as she picked up her freshly made drink and started to sip it.

Raphael stood up straighter, examining Tony with critical eyes for several long seconds.

"He is handsome, Zivi."

She smiled, tilting her head to shoot Tony a subtle wink, "I know."

It was another long moment before Ziva's friend nodded his head, "DiNozzo is in. He has permission to hang out with the cool kids. He is even allowed to snog our queen bee, given that it happens in the privacy of your apartment and I do not need to see it. I have seen Ziva shove her tongue down enough throats in my day. I do not need to see it anymore."

Ziva swung an elbow in the guy's direction, but Tony could tell by the messy placement that she had not actually meant to harm him. The guy dodged it easy enough and disappeared over Ziva's shoulder, mumbling something about having to warn the others and telling them to meet the rest at the booth.

She turned back to Tony slowly, and he even saw a slight hint of a blush on her cheeks as she slid off her stool and set down yet another empty glass. He stood after her, stepping out from the bar and holding his arm out. She looped hers through it and gave his bicep a gentle squeeze as she started leading him farther into the bar, in search of what he was starting to think was a truly motley crew.

* * *

"I like you, DiNozzo," Another one of Ziva's old friends - Tony believe his name was Uriah? - said as he plopped down on the booth next to the American.

"That's good," Tony replied, sipping on his soda, "I like being liked."

"Ziva sure seems to like you," a different friend - Liam - added, "I do not think I have ever seen her this shy about a guy before."

The last friend, Daniel, decided to chime in on that: "I have. Remember the guy she dated senior year. The one with the tattoos."

"And the piercings," Raphael added, making a disgusted face.

"But she was shy about him for very different reasons," Liam said.

"Yeah, he was her dealer."

Uriah turned to Tony, "You are not giving our girl drugs, are you?"

Tony shook his head, "I am not."

"Then I too think that Ziva really likes you."

Daniel looked on in annoyance.

As a trained interrogator, Tony had worked out the group dynamic of Ziva's four guy friends pretty quickly. Raphael was the talkative one (he also happened to be gay, but those who traits were not necessarily related). Liam and Uriah were both pretty big jock-heads, even at 30 years old. They were also brothers, so they had sort of their own thing going on. Then there was Daniel, the DiNozzo of the group. Not just was he a smooth talker who dressed nice and never backed down from the advances of a lady, but he also seemed to be a bit infatuated with Ziva. And therefore, not a very big fan of the real DiNozzo.

Tony was surprisingly at ease over the whole thing. A few years ago, he would have felt the need to compete with this Daniel guy over who could be the biggest ladies man. But now, with several years under his belt and Ziva sending him reassuring looks every few minutes where she was currently seated back at the bar, her remaining 3 female friends flanking her and seeming to talk her ear off in a language he could never hope to understand, he didn't feel the need to prove himself. Something about being here, with her friends, in her country, just seemed right. Tony's gut was telling him that if he just stepped back and went with the flow, everything would work out just the way it was supposed to. And he had always been willing to follow his gut.

Liam was the first one to notice that the girls were returning to their table, each of them sporting drinks in both hands and moving carefully so as not to spill them in the crowded bar. All of the guys started shifting around, moving here and there to ensure the girls were tucked away safely in the booth with no chance of any strangers getting any passes at them. This maneuver was so clean, Tony had to assume they had done it a hundred or so times, and it made him feel surprisingly thankful to these four guys who had clearly protected Ziva in many situations over the years. They all seemed to have a truly brotherly love toward her - well, all of them except for Daniel. But, hey, 3 out of 4 ain't bad.

Tony found himself sandwiched between Ziva and Raphael in the back of the round booth, with two other girls - Maya and Yaffa - sitting on the other side of Ziva, and Daniel and Dina making up the other side of Raphael. Liam and Uriah sat on the ends.

Ziva placed another soda in front of Tony and moved to sip on what appeared to be a different drink than she had been enjoying earlier. This one was red in color, and he ignored the way it stained her lips darker when she put it down.

Tony watched as she entered into some sort of debate with Maya, switching so frequently between English and Hebrew that he was amazed they were able to follow their own conversation. He smiled when she made an overly exasperated face at something Maya said.

Ziva noticed it out of the corner of her eye, and she turned to look at him, one eyebrow arched in curiosity. He just shook his head, his smile widening as he rested his arm on the top of the booth behind her and she leaned back, so she was resting her head on it. She looked back over at Maya and continued their conversation, each member of the group taking time to weigh in on whatever topic they were discussing, but Tony just sat back and watched.

He had learned a lot about Ziva in the past couple of hours. He learned that she had been voted the Israeli equivalent of Prom Queen her senior year of high school, she had dabbled in recreational drugs (namely marijuana), and he swore he heard someone say something about her having a motorcycle back when she lived in Be'er Shiva. He had learned when she had her first kiss (she was 12 when it happened unless you consider the peck on the cheek Benjamin Ratner planted on her in the 4th grade. But they didn't count that because they figure a real first kiss shouldn't end in the guy getting a broken nose), when she had sex for the first time (at 17 with the boy in the apartment below theirs because he offered and Ziva was tired of being made fun of for waiting), and even what Raphael had meant about holding her hand while she lost her virginity (he had meant the first time she drank alcohol, and then later that night for the first time she threw up her alcohol. Apparently, the word virginity doesn't translate very well between Hebrew slang and English).

He was so lost in the commotion, so thoroughly content to be surrounded by people Ziva clearly cared about and who knew so much more than he could ever even know about his beautiful partner, that he barely noticed when she slid her hand a little lower on his leg and gave his knee a pointed squeeze. He looked over, and they had one of their famous wordless conversations.

She asked him if everything was alright.

He nodded slightly.

She looked at him critically, probably concerned over how quiet he has been, particularly over the last hour. The Tony she knew never shut up.

He reassured her that everything was fine, throwing in a soft kiss to her temple to really seal the deal. When he pulled back, she seemed sufficiently assured. She sent him one last lingering stare before turning her attention to Yaffa, who was in the middle of recounting a story about Dina and Maya getting into a bar brawl.

"If only Ziva had been there. She would have kicked their asses," Raphael laughed, "Right, Zivi?"

Ziva just smiled a little, nodding along. She clearly hadn't been paying much attention to the story either.

"That's something I wanna know about. Where did that nickname come from? You all use it."

It was the first time Tony had talked in a while, and the girls seemed to have gotten considerably more intoxicated since the last time he spoke up, so Maya and Dina looked at him like they were just seeing him for the first time. Thankfully, the guys were less confused by his presence.

"Well, you know Ziva's siblings, right? Tali and Ari?"

It was hard to tell by Uriah's tone whether he had meant to refer to the siblings in the past tense or not, but Tony brushed past it.

"I know of them, yes."

"Well, the three of them were inseparable when we were little. _Especially_ Tali and Ziva. And we had this long-running joke that, since both Ari and Tali end with an 'i', Rivka David must have just spelled Ziva's name wrong on her birth certificate. She must have meant to put Z-I-V-I, to keep with her theme of similar names. So we started calling her Zivi, and it just stuck."

"Nevermind the fact that Tali's name was really Talia and Ari is, well, a guy name," Yaffa snickered.

Tony cleared his throat, "Were you guys all friends with Tali and Ari as well?"

The mood shifted among the group, but he was relieved to find it took a more wistful turn than a sad one.

"We were around Ziva a lot, so we were around them as well. Plus, we all lived pretty close to each other. I guess you could say we were all friends," It was Daniel who spoke, and Tony found it surprising that his voice was so gentle. He looked over to find the younger man staring at Ziva with concern.

But Tony knew that Ziva was fine. He could feel it in the looseness of her shoulders and the steadiness of her heartbeat. Something about this conversation, be it the people she is surrounded with or the alcohol pulsing through her veins, is not working her up as much as it normally would.

"What were they like?"

"Well, Tali was about as stubborn as Ziva. Which left Ari to be the yes-man of the family," Maya offered, leaving Tony to realize that was the most consecutive English she had spoken all night.

"We all thought that would change after he went off to medical school. But when he came back, he was just as compliant as he was when he left. Maybe even more so," Yaffa added.

"Which in turn pissed off Ziva and made her even more stubborn," Liam finished.

Everyone laughed lightly, even Ziva.

"Yeah, the three of them had a complicated relationship…" Dina started.

"But Ari was protective as hell of his little sisters. I think that is where Ziva learned to be protective as well," Raphael said.

"I'm not sure about the timeline since Mossad operations are so classified, but I think he took a bullet for her. Or maybe it was the other way around?" Uriah asked.

Ziva took a quick sip of her drink before nodding at him, "It was I who took the bullet. But if not for him, it would have killed me," she paused, turning in Tony's direction and giving him a heavy look, "The wound got infected before we were able to finish the mission, and if he hadn't treated me, my blood would likely have gone septic."

Tony nodded slightly, running his hand over her hair and twirling one of the ringlets around his finger. Add that to the long list of times he almost lost her before they even met. He had heard enough stories of dangerous missions and potentially fatal injuries to understand how lucky he was to even be sitting next to her.

"It was then that Ari begged Ziva to get out of Mossad. To come out from under the rule of her father and live the life she deserved," It was Dina who spoke, "He only ever wanted what was best for you, Zivi."

This was where there was supposed to be another joke, something to break the tension and redirect the conversation. But the joke didn't come, and the tension did not break.

"Maybe he wanted what was best for me. Or maybe he wanted me out of the agency so that we wouldn't have to worry about me discovering his ties to Hamas."

"That was not it," Dina insisted, "Ari loved you."

Ziva sighed, and Tony tightened his grip on her shoulders, trying to come up with a segway into another conversation. He knew he shouldn't have brought up her siblings.

"Perhaps. And in the end, it was his actions that landed me the liaison position with NCIS and allowed me to move to the States, which was the best possible place for me to be. So, I suppose I should be thankful."

Tony saw his opening, his opportunity to point out that moving to America and working with NCIS is how they met, and that certainly worked out for him.

But just as he was opening his mouth to speak, Dina beat him to it.

"You always speak so highly of your American coworkers."

Ziva sat up a little straighter, likely responding to the not-so-subtle accusation lying underneath her friend's words.

"I speak highly of them because I think highly of them. They are my family."

"They are not your family," Dina spat, "They killed your family."

"Excuse me?" Ziva was leaning all the way forward now, her hands flat on the table in front of her in the same eerie gesture Tony had seen time and time again in the interrogation room. It was a textbook strategic movement, placing her hands where her opponent can see them provides a false sense of security, while their position palm down on the table allows her a split second advantage should she decide to lunge.

Alarms started blaring in the back of his mind. They were at a bar with friends, not in the tiny room with a one-way mirror. He had to stop this conversation, intervene somehow and get Ziva out of here before Dina crosses a line. But how the hell could he-

"Those people at NCIS killed your brother, Ziva. How can you even look at them?"

" _Those_ _people_ were doing their jobs. Ari was a terrorist. He killed one of their agents. He would have killed more if they had not stopped him when they did."

"He wasn't the monster you make him out to be. He was a man. A good man."

Ziva threw her head back, sarcastic laughter prefacing her next statement, "Yeah. A good man who killed people and betrayed his family. Not to mention his country. A good man who organized the highjacking of a drone which he planned on flying into a docked Navy ship. The Crew's families were there. There were children standing around, people waiting to see their loved ones for the first time in months. He was a good man who was going to kill all of those innocent people."

"Ari was working with the FBI," Dina snapped back.

"He was using the FBI," was Ziva's quick response.

"He would not have let those people die. He had a plan."

"Yes. His plan was to kill children. And when that didn't work out, his plan was to kill Gibbs."

Dina let out an exasperated laugh and nudged Uriah's arm, signaling she wanted out of the booth, "Here we go again. Special Agent Gibbs, the man who can do no wrong. You were so quick to forgive him for taking away the only person left who truly loved you. Well, let me tell you this, Zivi, I do not forgive him. He did not only take Ari from you, but he took him from me as well."

"What are you talking about?" Ziva asked as she watched her friend slowly stand up from the booth.

Dina turned back dramatically, "Ari and I were in love. While you were out saving the world, I was here falling in love with your brother. And he was going to propose when he got back. We were going to start a family of our own."

Tony felt this news shoot straight through Ziva's body, causing her taut muscles to collapse in on themselves as she leaned back against his arm. He tried to move, to bring his hand up to her shoulder or wrap himself more firmly around her to try and provide some sort of support, but she quickly regained her composure and shook him off. She said something to Maya next to her, and soon all of the friends were shifting around to allow Ziva to shuffle out of the booth. She chased after Dina, who had already walked away. Tony bit back a groan, sneaking a final sip of his soda and a quick little shot of the leftover liquid in Ziva's cup before maneuvering his own way out of the booth as well.

He caught up with her just in time for her to catch up to Dina.

"DiDi, wait. I need to tell you something."

Dina stopped and turned around reluctantly, likely an automatic response to yet another nickname. Tony watched Ziva swallow painfully in the dim light of the bar which they had managed to stop next to.

"Gibbs did not kill Ari."

Tony's head shot up. He took a step closer to the women, hoping to get a better view of Ziva's face. This was all news to him as well.

"Then who did? Was it Tony?" Dina took a step in the Italian man's direction, ready to round on him. Tony took an involuntary step back, and ironically a little closer to Ziva as if expecting her to step in and protect him.

Which was exactly what she did. Ziva slid her body between her friend and her partners with practiced precision. Other than that, she didn't even acknowledge Tony's presence.

"It was not Tony. He was not even there."

"Then who was it?" Dina's shoulder heaved and she waited for her oldest friend to explain.

Ziva sighed, looking down at her hands for a few long seconds, buying time with one too many deep breaths before finally looking up to meet the other woman's eyes.

"It was me. I killed Ari."

Wherever Tony had expected this conversation to go, it wasn't there. In fact, he was so thrown off by her words, he took a step away from his partner at the same time her friend did. He saw Ziva's shoulders sag slightly as she barely turned her head to get a quick glance at him. His reaction had upset her, hurt her even. That was likely why she had never told him this information before. She was afraid he would react like that.

It was only a half a second later that Tony found himself taking a step forward, entering back into her personal space and showing his silent support. Yeah, he was surprised by all of this. And sure, he was going to have to have some more time to process it. But it really didn't change anything. Ziva was still Ziva. Strong, smart, and loyal to a tee. He just made a quick mental note to never cross her, because she would not hesitate to shoot if it was necessary.

As he stepped closer, he saw her shoulders relax just a bit. But the sight of her friend, standing a couple of feet in front of her with a look of pure disgust on her face made it pretty hard to feel any more relieved than that.

"Y-you what?" Dina's voice was small and broken.

"I shot Ari. Not Gibbs."

"You- you shot your own brother?"

Ziva just stared at her friend.

"And you watched him bleed out? You watched him die?"

She remained silent.

Dina took another step back, "You… you are a monster, Ziva David."

Tony's fist clenched as he stared at the back of Ziva's head, trying to gauge her next reaction.

"Dina, I-"

Dina shook her head harshly, "No. I don't want to hear it. I never believed it, you know? When people told me about your job- when _you_ told me about your job- there was always talk of you being a cold-blooded killer. An emotionless assassin. And I never believed it. Because those people never saw you with your friends. Or your sister. Ari. They didn't know how much you loved any of them."

"I did, Dina. I _do_."

"No. You don't. You aren't capable. You don't even know what love is."

Dina turned on her heel, and Ziva reached for her hand to stop her.

Tony couldn't see much in the dim light, but he definitely saw the shorter brunette make a hard, fast motion from one side of her body to the other, which then caused the taller brunette to whip her head to the side and reach up to grab her cheek. Thanks to his investigative wit, he was able to deduce that Dina had, in fact, slapped Ziva across the face.

He took a step forward, sliding a hand around Ziva's waist as she slightly stumbled from the shock of her friend's assault. He steadied her just in time for Dina to speak.

"I'm glad Tali was killed in that explosion. At least she wasn't around for you to stab her in the back whenever she became an inconvenience. I bet you would have killed her too if the opportunity presented itself," the fiery little woman looked directly at Tony then, "I suggest you run, Agent DiNozzo. The people around Ziva tend to die. Apparently at her own hand. She doesn't deserve a guy like you."

And with that, she turned around and stormed out of the bar.

Tony watched her leave for a few long seconds before he felt Ziva shift beside him, moving closer to his side and using his chest to cover herself from the onlookers who were wondering what the hell had just happened. He tightened his arm around her waist and pulled her completely against him, surprised when she buried her face in his shoulder.

He felt a tap on his other shoulder and was pleasantly surprised to find the bartender from earlier standing beside him, offering a napkin with what appeared to be ice folded inside. Tony took it happily, telling the guy thanks in Hebrew (one of the very few words he knew) and offered it to Ziva. She took a slight step back, one of her arms lingering around his torso as she held the napkin to her cheek.

Tony looked at her for a long second. Her eyes were puffy, but the tears were nowhere near falling. She looked tired. And young. Suddenly so young.

He sighed, tightening his arm again and ushering Ziva out of the bar. They stumbled into the elevator and out to the car (thankfully without running into Dina in the parking lot). He helped her slide into the passenger seat before jogging around and taking the wheel.

The drive home was silent, aside from the few quiet directions she gave him for how to get back to the apartment.

* * *

Her bedroom was empty, the only signs she had even walked through there being the heels thrown casually on her bed and the light from her side table being on. It wasn't until he took a step inside that he noticed the bathroom light was also on.

He found her standing in front of the sink, the majority of her weight resting on her two straightened arms as she seemed to be scouring her reflection in the mirror for some clue she must have missed.

He approached with caution, carefully setting down his glass of water before stepping up behind her.

He stood there for a moment, watching as she tilted her head slowly from side to side, her eyes never leaving her face in the mirror.

"She got you good, huh?" he finally asked, realizing that her careful analysis was focused on the fiery red blotch on her left cheek.

She shrugged slightly, "I do not think it will bruise."

"Too bad," he mumbled, stepping closer and slowly brushing her hair across her back and over one shoulder, "You know I love a good chick fight, but nothing quite rounds out the experience like a good shiner."

She laughed lightly as he trailed his fingers down her arm, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake, "Well then you must have been quite disappointed with the display tonight. I did not even get a punch in."

He shrugged, his hands coming to rest on the counter in front of her, his elbows barely brushing against her hips as he leaned into her slightly, "Ah, we all know you could have taken her."

"I should hope so," she leaned back into him, tilting her head to the side so that his fit perfectly on her shoulder. They stood like that for several minutes, so many points of contact between them and yet not enough. Her back to his chest. Her cheek against his. The lines blurred, but not completely crossed. Another form of their excruciating sexual limbo.

Eventually, she turned toward him, "I am sorry, Tony. That was not how tonight was supposed to end."

His eyebrows shot up, the smirk tugging on his lips giving him a mischievous look, "Supposed to end? Well, Miss David, just how was tonight supposed to end?"

She shrugged a little, but her lips curled into a smirk to match his, "When we got back to the apartment, I was going pop open this _ridiculously_ expensive bottle of wine that I bought in Paris years ago."

"More alcohol?"

She laughed, "Honestly, the other drinks weren't really part of the plan. But, we would exchange some small talk in the kitchen… you would get going on some story about college or maybe reciting some plotline of a movie to me. And I would try to listen, of course, but I just wouldn't be able to stop watching the way you start talking with your hands when you get deep into a conversation... or the way the light catches your eyes… the way your lips move…"

Her eyes fluttered down to said lips, and he found himself licking them involuntarily. It made her smirk grow larger.

"Eventually you would catch me and accuse me of not paying attention. And I would just laugh, and finally, admit that you are the only thing I've paid attention to all night. And the only thing I've been able to think about since I left DC," she paused, her lips parted and a dreamy look in her eye, "And that there hasn't been a day that has gone by since I met you 8 years ago… where I did not think about you."

He forced the smile on his face to remain normal, refusing to let it spread so broadly across his face he was sure it would crack. Instead, he focused on the feeling of her skin as he brushed his knuckles over her delicate jaw.

"Huh. Well, then it's a shame we couldn't do all of that."

"I wasn't done," she whispered as she ran a gentle hand up his back, he could barely feel her fingertips brushing over the fabric of his shirt until she brought them to rest on the back of his neck, "I would also admit that I have always found you… captivating. Distracting, even."

His own hands settled on her hips as he let out a deep chuckle, "Distracting? Well, that must make work a challenge."

"You have no idea."

He shook his head gently before taking the tiny fraction of a step closer, effectively pinning her body between his and the counter, "No, I know exactly what you're talking about. I-"

"Shhhh," she brought a finger up to his lips to shut him up, "I still have not finished, Tony."

He tilted his head back away from her hand so he could speak, "Finished what? Your little date scenario?"

He watched as her teeth sunk into her lower lip and her eyes traveled over his face, "My fantasy."

He chuckled again, bringing one hand up to brush stray curls out of her face and letting it linger on her cheek, just below the red splotch that he was not so sure would heal up without a bruise, "Why fantasize when I'm right here?"

A string of emotions played across her face. It started with shock that he would make such a direct statement. Then there was a flash of anger - she hated when he teased her. And then her eyes dropped down to his lips, and he watched all of her features soften into _that_ expression. The sweet, thoughtful one she seemed to reserve only for him and only for their most intimate moments. He had seen it in the men's room after she returned from Somalia. Then again in the dim light of the bullpen as they discussed their mutual challenges in the romance department. The dance floor in Berlin. And, most recently, in the woods outside of Gibbs' cabin with her hand weighing on his chest like a dumbbell and so many walls standing between them and their happy ending.

It was that thought - the realization that those walls that had felt so tall and so unscalable just a week ago now seemed like tiny ant hills under their feet - that caused him to lean in.

It was the sight of her - perfectly tousled curls falling around her face, tiny red line forming below her lip where she had been gnawing on it, silky smooth dress still hanging mercilessly on her curvy frame - that had him shifting his hands from where they had been resting on her hip and her cheek down to grip her waist, ensuring she couldn't slip from his grasp. It was the feeling of Ziva right there in front of him, not just physically but mentally - _emotionally_ \- after what had felt like the worst few months of his life since her father passed away and she shut herself off to the world in order to cope with the pain, that had his eyes fixating on her lips as he tried to close the space between them.

But before he could, Ziva - never one to be outdone - slid her hand up from his neck until it was square on the back on his head, giving her just the leverage she needed to close that same space for herself.

Tony was used to Ziva taking the lead. She was often the first one to enter and clear a room in the field. She made a point of beating both him and McGee to the clicker whenever possible in the bullpen. She had even lead when they danced in Berlin. So he was initially okay with letting her have this, to be the one to set the pace of their lips as they moved together, to slide her tongue into his mouth first, and even to take his bottom lip between her teeth and bite down on it a bit harder than necessary before soothing the sore spot with a chaste pass of her tongue. He was content to sit back and enjoy the full making-out-with-Ziva-David experience. And what an experience it was.

Until he felt her hands untangle themselves from the short hairs at the back of his neck and find their way to the buttons of his dress shirt. Making out was one thing, but when it came time to undress, Anthony DiNozzo was a professional. It had always been his absolute favorite part of sexy-time. Undressing a woman was like unwrapping a gift for him: folding back, removing, sometimes tearing off portions to reveal the soft, smooth surface underneath. He had a particular way of doing it - a process if you will - and he was not about to let Ziva get in the way of it, no matter how sexy he found her tendency to take charge.

So he slid his hands down from her waist, smoothing the material of her dress over her hips before finding the right spot just below her butt to pick her up and set her effortlessly on the counter behind them - so thankful that his adrenaline had already kicked in and allowed for a smooth motion.

Her mouth opened in a ghost of a gasp when she felt herself being lifted, and Tony took that as his chance to slide his own tongue past her teeth and finally get the upper hand. His fingers tangled in her curls as he situated himself between her legs.

He was surprised with how well she took the transition from lead to supporting role in their little show, moving her hands from his shirt up to his shoulders and then back to the base of his neck. He dropped one of his own out of her curls and brought it down to her thigh, now mostly bare since her dress had ridden up in all of the shifting. He started down by her knee, feeling the soft skin as he moved closer toward her hip, the muscles rippling slightly below his palm. He smirked into the kiss as he leaned forward.

That was his mistake since it was this leaning forward that caused Ziva's backside to shift just far enough to bring her weight down on the faucet, turning it on. He was clearly too wrapped up in - well- _her_ to really know what was going on, but he heard the sudden sound of running water, followed by her small gasp and then his hand was suddenly wet where it had been sliding slowly down her back.

He felt Ziva shove him back and opened his eyes just in time to see her slide off the counter and turn off the faucet.

Once the water was off, she turned back toward him and leaned against the counter, her arms coming up to cross her chest and her eyebrows raising critically. She looked at him for a long second, and he stared back, still wild-eyed from everything that had transpired in the past few minutes.

Finally, they both started laughing.

Ziva looked down at her dress, and he noticed a dark stain around on of her hips where she had been caught by the water, "I cannot believe that just happened."

Tony shrugged, his laughter settling into a deep smirk as he gestured vaguely toward the sink, "I don't know what to say. Making out in the bathroom always works out well in the movies."

She shook her head, "Well! If it works in the movies!"

He leaned back against the wall as he watched her fuss over the water stain. She adjusted the material several times before deciding that it was a lost cause.

When she looked back up at him, her eyes were suddenly very tired. The red splotch on her face seemed to be more swollen than it had been a few minutes ago. She looked beaten down. Defeated, even.

"Tony…" she said his name carefully as if she was afraid of how he would react to her use of it.

He didn't like how vulnerable it made her sound.

He pushed himself off of the wall and took a small step closer to her, "Ziva."

She tore her eyes away from his and took a sudden interest in the light fixture above them, "We should probably talk about what happened with Dina."

"What is there to talk about? Aside from maybe your choice in friends."

She shook her head, "Dina has always been a good friend to me. If anyone has bad taste in people, it must be her. After all, I did kill her lover."

Tony shrugged, "It was justified."

She shook her head yet again, "I killed Ari."

He just nodded.

"I killed my brother," she repeated as if she was waiting for him to finally understand the gravity of the situation.

"Look, Ziva," he took another step toward her and took the opportunity to brush more unruly curls out of her face and let his hand come to rest on the side of her neck, effectively forcing her to look up at him, "I am not going to pretend to understand your relationship with your brother. And I won't pretend to know what he was like before he got entangled with NCIS. But I will be the first to admit that I hated that bastard. And I'm glad he's dead. I don't care who killed him."

"But I _killed_ my _brother_ , Tony. You may not have liked him very much, but I loved him. And I killed him."

"Which makes me hate him even more. He betrayed you, Zi. He put you in that position."

She leaned into his hand and dropped her voice down to a whisper, "I was following orders."

"Huh?"

"My father created the handler position as an op. I volunteered with the intention of protecting Ari, but my orders were to kill him. To gain Gibb's trust."

"And you did it."

"I wasn't going to. I was going to help Ari escape. But then Gibbs asked me to be at his house that night, to be his backup for the confrontation. And Ari admitted to his betrayal. Admitted to working with Hamas. Admitted to everything. So I shot him."

Tony had heard enough. He slid his hand around her shoulder and pulled her small body closer, tucking her under his arms. She slipped her small ones around his waist and turned her head to rest her ear directly over his heart as if she wanted to hear it beat.

"I'm sorry, Ziva. You shouldn't have had to do it."

She didn't respond, just tightened her arms around him and accepted the comfort her offered.

They stood like that for a long time. Minutes. Until Tony noticed that Ziva's body was getting a little too limp as if she was falling asleep on him.

"Okay," he whispered as he carefully unwrapped her from his embrace, holding her shoulders as she steadied herself on her own feet. Her eyes were only half open when he got a look at her face.

"Time for bed?" she mumbled, a ghost of a smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth.

"Yeah. Time for bed."

She nodded, turning around and sweeping her hair to one side, silently asking him to unzip her. He obliged, stepping up behind her and being very careful not to let his fingers linger on her skin for too long as he tugged the zipper down. She slid the dress off her shoulder and stepped out of it before hanging it over the shower door to dry and stepping around Tony to exit the bathroom. He followed behind her, every bit the lovesick puppy that any outsider would likely label him if they saw him right now. He watched her pick up the discarded heels and toss them on the ground before laying down on the bed, on top of the covers. He could see the slight curve in her back as she settled herself on her stomach with her ass in his direction, clearly a purposely sexual position.

And in any other context, on any other day, he would have taken full advantage of such a position. He was only a man, after all. But right now, he found himself rolling his eyes.

"Sleep tight," he mumbled as he made his way toward her bedroom door.

He heard the bed move as she shifted off of her stomach and onto her knees, "Where are you going?"

He only turned to her once he had his hand firmly on the doorknob, "The Couch. That's where I am sleeping, right?"

She shook her head, her eyebrows turning down into an adorable little-confused pout, "No. At least, not tonight."

He sighed, "Ziva, I want to have sex with you. _You have no idea_ how much I want to have sex with you. But you're too tired for it tonight."

She found this amusing, "What, are you afraid I'm gonna fall asleep on you, Tony? Are you afraid you aren't _engaging_ enough?"

He shook his head, "No. Believe me, you would be plenty engaged. And very much awake."

"So what's the problem?" She leaned forward onto her hands, leaving her practically naked, on all fours, on her bed.

 _For fuck's sake,_ he thought to himself

"The problem is that you are exhausted. And you had a long night. You need to sleep. Goodnight, Ziva."

He turned the doorknob and was halfway into the hallway before he heard her voice, much smaller and sweeter than the teasing one she had been using just moments ago.

"Tony, wait."

He froze.

"Sleep in here. We do not have to have sex. We _will not_ have sex. Just sleep in here. In the bed. With me."

He turned back around, finding that she had shifted again on the bed, now just resting on her hip and looking up at him with big, innocent eyes. Big, innocent, exhausted eyes.

He considered her offer for a few seconds. Weighing his desire to feel her body next to his with his desire to just _feel_ her.

"I'll put on more clothes. Just please, Tony. Sleep in here."

He took a long, deep breath before finally nodding, stepping back into the room and shutting the door behind him. He saw her smile a little before crawling off the bed and walking over to the dresser. She riffled through a drawer for a few seconds before disappearing back into the bathroom and shutting the door.

He walked around to the right side of the bed, already knowing her preference for the left, and started unbuttoning his shirt. He slid off his pants and was just about to pull his undershirt over his head when he heard the bathroom door open again.

"Leave that on," Ziva commanded as she emerged, an oversized t-shirt now hanging off her shoulders and cutting off around her mid-thigh. The letters U-S-M-C were printed across the top in thick, red blocks.

He smiled sweetly at her, "What, don't think you can control yourself around me if I'm shirtless?"

She shook her head a little as she leaned over to pull back her side of the covers, "No. I have seen you shirtless many times."

"Then why can't I take this off?"

She slipped under the blankets before pointing a finger at his chest, "The hair. It's like sleeping next to a werewolf."

He scoffed, "The ladies love the chest hair."

She shrugged, "I am not saying I don't like it. I am just pointing out that we are in a desert and all the extra hair just makes it too warm in here."

He considered this for a moment, "So you think my chest hair is just _too hot."_

She rolled her eyes at him, "Goodnight, Tony."

He chuckled to himself as he slid beneath the covers, undershirt still on, and turned off the light on the nightstand. He then reached a single hand out, trying to locate her in the dark room. He found her hip, just a foot or so away from his body, and happily allowed himself to slide in behind her, his chest pressing against her back and her curls falling all around his face. He slipped an arm around her waist, pulling her closer and feeling relieved when she snuggled herself farther into his embrace rather than pushing him away.

They laid there for a while, both silent as they adjusted to this new development. Sure, they had slept in the same bed before. They had even found themselves spooned together once or twice. But that was all before. This was different for so many reasons. Feelings were now out in the open (albeit incomplete, abridged versions of their feelings). Hands had been held, lips had been kissed, and a huge step had been taken over a line they had thought was uncrossable for so long.

Tony eventually spoke, which surprised even himself.

"She was right about one thing, you know."

Ziva tilted her head a bit as one of her hands came up to brush over the forearm wrapped around her, tickling the hairs there, "That I do not deserve you?"

He shook his head, sliding the arm down just a little to hook it around her hips and pull her impossibly closer, "Not that. Definitely not that. She was right about your brother. He did love you, Ziva."

She sighed quietly, "And how would you know this?"

"Because he was your brother," he shrugged before bringing his lips right next to her ear, reveling in the smell of her coconut scented shampoo, "And what's not to love?"

"Hm," she tilted her head again, this time fitting it perfectly into the space next to his.

"But the man you killed? The terrorist? The guy who killed Kate? That wasn't your brother. That guy was the creation of constant abuse and manipulation over many years. He was broken, and it made him twisted. He wasn't your brother anymore. It wasn't the same man."

She didn't say anything. She didn't move. For a minute, he was sure she had fallen asleep. He continued to listen to the steady sound of her breath.

And just when he was about to fall asleep as well, he felt her shift, the hand that had been resting on his arm came up to her face, his own hand following it. He felt the gentle brush of her lips on his skin, just below his knuckles.

"Thank you, Tony," she whispered so quietly he would have assumed he imagined it had he not felt her breath on his fingers. Then she intertwined them with her own and returned his arm to her waist, giving it a gentle squeeze just before he slipped into a peaceful sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

**Hi, hello, how are ya?**

 **Well, I'm back with another chapter for this lovely little speculative Tiva fic. This one is a little different because I know this is a Tiva-centric fic but more than that it is really a Ziva-centric one because I want to dive into her backstory and take Tony along for the ride because cute, y'know? Anyway, a couple of points:**

 **1) There are several hebrew phrases in this chapter. Please know that I am not a native speaker (or a speaker at all) so if they are wrong please blame the internet. (Also translations will be inserted at the bottom of the chapter in cae you want those)**

 **2) I know that the show sort of hinted that Ziva's mother was killed, but I like to believe that at least one death in her family wasn't totally traumatic and horrible, so I changed that.**

 **3) PLEASE leave a review and let me know what you think of this chapter and the 3 characters I introduced here in particular. I think they're sorta fun and interesting.**

 **ENJOY! This is another long one so grab a snack!**

* * *

Tony woke up the same way he had thousands of times in his life: to the sound of a phone ringing.

He didn't move, instead just cursing the caller inside of his head. Who dare disrupt what was inexplicably his most comfortable sleep in years? Well, whoever it was, he was not going to justify their rude behavior with an answer. He would just let them go to voicemail.

But a moment after he made this bold decision, he felt movement in the bed beside him, and then a large weight was lifted off of his arm. It started tingling painfully as blood rushed back into the limb.

The ringing soon stopped, and a groggy female voice let out a soft: "Hello?"

Tony's muscles tensed. It had been a while since he had woken up next to a woman, and he braced himself for what his half-awake mind assumed would be the awkward aftermath of a well-intentioned date. God, he was really getting too old for one night stands.

"Boker Tov, Doda."

It was Ziva. He woke up next to Ziva.

Thank god.

He tried to look over at her but found that the room beyond his eyelids was too bright. He ended up squinting just enough to see her silhouette propped up against the headboard with her phone to her ear. He frowned at how far away she looked and was even more disappointed when he slowly pushed his arm in her direction and couldn't reach her.

He groaned a little before turning onto his back and closing his eyes, listening to the smooth strings of Hebrew filling the air around him as she carried on her conversation. He focused on her tone, playing a little game in his mind as he tried to guess what she was talking about, and with whom.

Eventually, Ziva sighed, "Ken. Ani mitstaeret. Lehiteraott makhar."

He turned his head and squinted in her direction again. He saw her hang up the phone and place it back on her side table. She ran a hand through her hair, tilting her head from side to side before turning to look at him. He shut his eyes and played dumb.

"I know you are awake, Tony."

He shook his head, keeping his eyes closed, "No, I'm not."

She just chuckled at him, shaking her head and running her hand through her hair again, "Apparently we were tired. It is almost noon."

He shrugged a bit, "I sleep 'til noon all the time. Besides, we are on vacation."

"No, we are unemployed."

"All the more reason to sleep," he mumbled as he slid his arm out, silently asking her to lay down beside him again. Maybe even put her head on his chest. That sounded nice.

She didn't move for a moment, and when she finally did, he was disappointed to find she didn't take him up on his offer. He opened his eyes, turning his head to see her laying on the far side of the bed, propped up on an elbow with her curls pulled over one shoulder. She picked up his extended hand, sliding her fingers between his and holding it out in front of her. She kept her eyes trained on their intertwined fingers.

"Who was that on the phone?" He finally asked, accepting the fact that they were not going to spend all day curled up in bed.

"My Aunt."

"Nettie?"

"No. Hinda. But she tends to speak for the three of them. Apparently, Schmiel told them about my return to Tel Aviv, and they are highly offended that I have not yet paid them a visit."

"I see. So when did you tell the Aunts that we would be over?"

He heard her scoff quietly.

"We?" she asked.

He smiled, "Well, yeah. I'm your guest. You wouldn't want to leave me unattended."

She shook her head, "You are a grown man, Tony, I think you would get along just fine."

He shrugged, "Maybe. But I should probably go with you anyway. I'm sure the aunts will want to meet your new boyfriend."

This time she scoffed loudly, "Boyfriend? Now you think you are my boyfriend?"

He just shrugged, a big, goofy DiNozzo grin plastered on his face.

She shook her head, dropping his hand as she pushed herself off the bed and made her way toward the bedroom door. He watched her, the slight hint of a smile that he caught before she turned giving him the assurance he needed that she wasn't actually upset with him.

When she got to the door, she turned back toward him dramatically.

"You are not my boyfriend, Tony."

She disappeared around the corner. He assumed she was headed to the kitchen to find something for breakfast - er - lunch.

He listened to her footsteps for a moment before he yelled after her.

"So when are we visiting the Aunts?"

"Tomorrow," she yelled back.

He smiled to himself. He may not yet be her boyfriend by title, but he was never very big on labels anyway.

* * *

"Anthony! Long time no see!" Schmiel Pinkhas emerged from around a well-trimmed hedge, looking every bit as chipper as the last time Tony saw him, save for the addition of a slick black cane aiding in his every third step or so.

"You just saw him a few months ago," Ziva pointed out as she shut the car door and approached her old friend, drawing him into their customary embrace before planting a sweet kiss on his wrinkled cheek.

"Oh yes! But when you get to be my age, Ziva, a few months can feel like a lifetime!"

"If it makes you feel any better," Tony said as he joined them at the top of the driveway, "I think the past few months have felt like a lifetime to all of us."

"Yes, I should think that it would feel like that after what you all have been through. Especially you, my dear. And yet you stand before me, as bright and beautiful as ever," Schmiel ran an adoring hand across Ziva's cheek (thankfully free of any sign she had been backhanded just the other day) as he examined her, "And in much greater spirits than the last time we spoke. I don't suppose you had anything to do with that, huh DiNozzo?"

Ziva's head snapped in his direction, the slightest hint of a blush creeping across her cheeks as she stared at him with wide eyes.

Tony just chuckled, "As much as I would love to take the credit, I can't. That's all her."

Schmiel let out a hearty laugh, "Of course! That's my Ziva, her beauty is only outweighed by her unwavering strength."

Tony smiled as he let his hand come to rest on the small of her back, "Well put, Schmielster. I couldn't agree more."

"I suppose I have delayed you two long enough. The ladies are around back. I was just taking a stroll around the block, stretching my legs a little, getting my money's worth for this cane. I will be back in a while," Schmiel stepped forward, giving Ziva another quick peck on the cheek before moving on to give Tony a friendly pat on the shoulder. They watched him mosey down the small driveway and onto the uneven sidewalk. He trotted right along, not letting the tricky terrain slow him down.

Tony turned back to Ziva, a Man of Steel joke right on the tip of his tongue. But he bit it back when he saw the way she was watching the old man sadly.

"Hey," he brushed her hair over her shoulder as a way of getting her attention, "You okay?"

She nodded, "I am fine. I just…worry about him."

"Yeah," he sighed a little as he went back to watching the retreating frame of the old man, "I know you do."

He brought a hand up to his shoulder and tried to rub out a raw muscle, rolling his head from side to side as he did so.

This caught Ziva's attention, and she turned to face him.

"Are you okay?" She asked.

"Yeah, I just-" he winced as he hit a particularly tender spot, "I'm just a little sore from the sleeping arrangements last night."

She nodded knowingly. She had been very concerned when she woke up to find him sleeping in a practically vertical position on the couch, her head laying on his lap and the bright blue screensaver of her DVD player on the TV in front of them. They plowed their way through several different movies the day before, some of her favorites and some of his. At some point, they had both fallen asleep, causing him to wake up with more knots in his neck than dirty magazines in his desk drawer. She had gracefully helped him hobble his way into her bathroom and even showed him how to use the fancy massaging showerhead before leaving him to try and melt away the pain in a deliciously steamy rinse. It had helped quite a bit, but then they sat in a car for the better part of 2 hours driving toward Jerusalem, and he had to admit, he was feeling a little tight.

She shot him a final apologetic look before turning on her heel and walking in the direction Schmiel had come from; toward the oversized hedge.

He fell into step behind her, wincing slightly as the muscles in his lower back started protesting the movement.

"God, I could really use a massage," he mumbled, more to himself than anything.

But, of course, her ninja hearing picked up on it. She let out a breezy laugh as she rounded the corner of the foliage and came to stop in front of a tall white gate, made of ornately decorated planks of wood and held shut by a large keypad lock. The heavy-duty lock seemed out of place, but Tony decided not to point it out.

"Are you implying that I should give you one?" she asked, her eyes dancing with amusement.

His eyebrows shot up, "Are you offering?"

She laughed again as she turned her attention toward the gate and keyed in 5 numbers before tugging on the brass knob. She held the door slightly open as she looked back at him over her shoulder, "Perhaps. If you behave."

She yanked it open the rest of the way to reveal a stone path, completely shaded from the hot desert sun by a tall trellis with intricately woven ivy trailing along it.

"I always behave," he mumbled as he stepped into the man-made tunnel and pulled the gate shut firmly behind him.

He turned to find Ziva already several feet ahead of him on the path, and he had to take a few jogging steps to catch up to her. As he settled into place beside her, matching her pace stride for stride, he let himself look around at the trellis. He noticed the way the sunlight filtered through the tiny spaces between the lines of ivy and took a moment to look over at Ziva and watch how it danced across her hair as she walked. She had straightened it this morning, much to his dismay, but he still found himself mesmerized by how smooth and shiny it looked in the sporadic light. He kept his eyes trained on her for a few more seconds before something behind her caught his attention. Between the leaves, he could see colors and shapes, what he assumed to be all sorts of flowers and plants dotting the landscape outside of the tunnel. He looked forward and found that they were quickly nearing the end of their little-shaded path, and he could see a very large rose bush positioned just in front of the exit.

"Uh…" he stammered as they stepped out of the shade and into the bright sun.

The first thing he noted was the large hedge, which extended beyond the little gate they had walked through and seemed to enclose the entire yard. Lining the hedge, as if there was not enough foliage, were different bushes and trees, sporting all sorts of flowers and fruit, providing an appealing array of color and vibrancy. In the center was a comically large fountain (peeing child statue and all) squared in by four tall trees.

Tony felt like he had just fallen down the rabbit hole and popped up in the middle of the Queen of Heart's game of croquet.

Ziva looked around the garden casually, because obviously none of it's extravagance was new to her, before turning to him with a bit of a sheepish grin.

"It is… a lot. I know."

"A lot? Ziva, this place is…" he trailed off, looking around again and noticing more stone statues littered across the landscape.

"Ridiculous? Lavish? Insane?"

"Beautiful," he settled on.

Which happened to be the same word he would use to describe the smile that spread across her face, so big and brilliant that he assumed it made her cheeks her.

"I have always found it beautiful as well," she looked around again, "I suppose the rat is out of the bag, huh?"

"Cat," he corrected automatically, "And what cat? The Ziva's-family-is-totally-loaded cat? Because I don't know, Zi. I think we all sorta already knew you guys had money. I mean, your dad was the director of one of the most elite intelligence agencies in the world. Pretty sure a man of that status is not making any less than 7 figures."

"Well, yes. My father was very rich. But it goes beyond that. The Davids have old money. As do the Mizrahs. My mother's family."

"Yeah, these are her sisters, right?"

She just nodded.

"So… you're a trust fund baby?"

Her head jerked toward him, ready to defend herself should he start claiming that she was anything but a hard worker who earned her way, but she saw a cheeky little grin on his lips and knew he was just teasing her.

Naturally, she met his remark with an elbow to the gut, hard enough to be felt but not so hard to cause real pain.

He laughed, crossing his arms across his body in faux pain, "Look, David, you don't have to get aggressive. I never said there was anything wrong with that. I was a trust fund baby! Or, I would have been if my father hadn't gone bankrupt just before I was set to get my inheritance, and therefore claimed he was 'cutting me off' for my own good."

She didn't say anything, instead just looking back toward the shaded path for a moment as if debating whether she still wanted him to meet her extended family.

"In fact," he murmured as he took a small step closer and brought one hand up to hover just above her hip, not daring to actually touch her, "I think it's sorta sexy."

She laughed, throwing her head back for a split second before shoving his hand away and rolling her eyes at him.

He just smiled. Growing up the class clown was not always a fun thing. In fact, he often found his tendency to crack jokes in place of discussing his true feelings absolutely annoying. But making Ziva laugh, and knowing that he is one of the few people that truly knew how to do it, made all of his years of flopped jokes and tasteless punchlines worth it.

"Oh, Zivaleh!"

Ziva spun around at the sound of her name, and Tony followed her gaze toward a particularly shady tree with a large white-iron table beneath it. He was able to make out three distinct figures seated at the table.

Ziva yelled something back at the figures, and there was a small exchange of Hebrew phrases he was in no position to understand before her shoulders dropped dramatically.

"Oh boy," she whispered, "Here we go."

He gave her a strange look, "What'd they say?"

She shook her head, standing up a bit straighter, "Nothing. Just remember, my aunts are insane, and anything they tell you about me is likely exaggerated."

He laughed as they made their way toward the table, "Right."

He continued to look around as they walked, noticing more statues and intricately trimmed trees. He saw another trellis-like structure in the back corner, this one more of a box shape than the one they walked through a few moments ago and tried to see what lay just beyond the green and red vines growing all around it. He couldn't make it out.

"Boker Tov," Ziva addressed her Aunts first, "I am sorry to show up like this. We should have called when we got close."

"Nonsense, Zivaleh. You know you are welcome here any time. We are only disappointed that you had not thought to stop by before we called."

Tony eyed the woman on his far right, the one who had been talking, and tried to guess which aunt she could be. However, he quickly gave up. Honestly, he couldn't quite remember what Ziva had said their names were anyway.

"I know. Again, I am sorry," Ziva made her way around the table, bending down to kiss each woman on the cheek in turn.

It wasn't until she made it to the final aunt, the one who had spoken first, that she looked back up at Tony.

"Dodot, I would like you to meet Anthony DiNozzo. My…" she scrunched her eyebrows as she tried to pick a word to describe their relationship.

"Partner," he finished for her, figuring it was the most fitting. Sure, they may not be work partners at the moment, but they were most certainly still a team.

"Partner," she confirmed, the corners of her mouth twitching as she held back her smirk, "And Tony, these are my Aunts."

She gestured vaguely around the table.

The one in the middle, admittedly the most round of the three, was the first to stand. She rounded the table in a few steps and extended her hand in Tony's direction.

"It is such a pleasure to finally meet you, Anthony. Ziva has done nothing but sing your praises since she moved to America. It is great to finally put a face to a name," She spoke excitedly, her accent thick and hard. It reminded him a lot of Ziva's when he first met her before she adapted to America.

"And such a handsome face at that," Another aunt, the one on his left spoke from where she was pulling herself out of her seat.

He spared Ziva a wolfish grin and saw that she was shaking her head slightly as she mumbled something to the final aunt, still seated in front of her.

"I am Netayana," the one standing directly in front of him said as she shook his hand quite aggressively, "I am not sure if you will remember this, but we spoke very briefly on the phone before. Several years ago."

He smiled, "Oh, I remember. As I recall it, I was really the only one who spoke. And I am still sorry about that misunderstanding. Ziva never did let me apologize to you."

"Oh, hush! I was so happy to learn that Ziva was making such good friends at her new job."

"We understand that you have been a great friend to Ziva over the years, and we cannot thank you enough for helping her settle in the States," The second aunt had finally gotten out of her chair and made her way up to Tony, pulling him into a bear hug.

"Adina, won't you let go of the boy! He is American. They are not fond of physical contact," Nettie reprimanded her sister.

"No, no. It's alright. I'm also Italian. Hugging makes me feel at home," He winked in Ziva's general direction, not bothering to watch the eye roll he was sure she sent him in return.

"Oh! And he is charming," Adina exclaimed as she released him turning to give Ziva a pointed look, "Though I do believe that Ziva told us that, yes?"

Ziva half laughed, the same throaty sound she always made when she knew something was going to go to his head, "No, I told you that he thinks he is charming. There is a difference."

"Oh, tafessiq 'im zeh, Ziva! You should not be so rude to your friend," Nettie had waddled her way back around the table and was sitting down as she admonished her niece.

Ziva hung her head the slightest bit, and he had to actively avoid thinking about how adorable she must have been as a child, getting herself into trouble and then acting ashamed when she got caught.

"I don't mind. We tease each other at work all the time. It's how we show affection."

The two aunts started mumbling to each other, gushing over the peculiarity of American customs and how strange it must be to equate insults with affection. Tony smiled to himself as his eyes drifted over to the final Aunt - Hinda - the one who had barely spoken a word since they arrived. She was already watching him.

"Won't you sit down, Anthony?" She said slowly, gesturing toward the fourth chair at their table. He noticed that her accent was less noticeable, and that she even started her sentence with a contraction.

He nodded a little as he pulled the chair out and settled himself into it. He glanced to his left and right really fast, confirming that there were no more chairs. Where was Ziva gonna sit?

"There are more chairs in the basement, Ahuva. Won't you fetch one for yourself and Schmiel? I am sure he will return soon."

Ziva nodded a little, "Ken, Doda."

She shot Tony a reassuring look as she stepped out from behind her most terrifying Aunt and started making her way toward the house.

Great. Been here all of 5 minutes and she's already ditched me.

He started looking around the garden again, desperately searching for something to look at that wasn't one of the three elderly women in front of him. He could feel all three sets of eyes trained on him.

It was Adina who finally spoke, "Do you like the scenery, Anthony?"

He turned back toward them with a smile, "I do. It's beautiful."

Nettie nodded excitedly, "It is. We are very proud of it."

"Do you guys maintain it yourself?" He asked, thinking back to the way Nettie waddled and Adina struggled to stand up. They were a little old to be trimming hedges and mowing grass.

"Unfortunately no, not for several years now," Adina looked wistfully around her, "We get help from some neighbor boys down the block. And all of the children pitch in from time to time."

"The children?" He asked.

"Yes. Ziva's cousins."

He tried to hide his surprise, "Ziva has cousins?"

"Why, yes. Many. And she is very close to several of them," Nettie seemed confused by his question, "Has she never mentioned them?"

He just shook his head.

Nettie sighed, "Well, Ziva has always been a very private person. Anyway, the children are a great help. It is truly a labor of love for the whole family. But I'm sure Ziva has at least explained that to you, yes?"

"Uh…" he looked around awkwardly. He felt like he was getting Ziva in some sort of trouble, but he genuinely had no idea what they were talking about.

Adina gasped quietly, "She has not told you about her mother?"

He shrugged a bit, "Honestly, not really."

"Oy! What has gotten into our sweet girl? Keeping secrets from even her closest friends?"

"Pashutt Teraga, Netayana. Ziva is not keeping secrets. She is just withholding some things. Not everyone has to know everything," Hinda came to Ziva's defense, and Tony quickly realized that the two of them had a different relationship than the other Aunts. Hinda had this quiet confidence about her that was eerily familiar. Her shoulders were pushed back, her posture very straight and strong. He wondered if Ziva even knew that she morphed into her Aunt whenever she was being particularly stubborn.

"But this is Tony. If she is not talking about these sorts of things with him, then who is she talking about them with?" Adina stared at her sister with an incredulous expression, leaving him to wonder just how Ziva had described their relationship to her Aunts in the past. Had she really made him seem like such a strong confidant that he just simply had to know a lot about her personal life?

"Talking about what?" Ziva's voice popped up right behind Tony, and he practically jumped out of his chair. Damn ninja. And damn ninja's aunts who didn't bother to warn him of her return.

"Tony was just telling us that you have never mentioned your cousins? Not even Aaron? Or Eliana?"

Ziva set a chair down on either side of him before taking a seat in the one on his right, between him and Hinda. She looked around awkwardly as Nettie finished speaking, clearly uncomfortable with the new conversation.

"I guess they just… never came up," she shrugged a bit as she slumped back in the chair.

"And what about your mother? He says you do not talk about her often?"

"Adina, that is enough. Ziva does not have to share things with her coworker if she doesn't want to," Hinda lifted her chin in what he could only describe as a distinctly Ziva-esque gesture. It was meant to signal the end of a discussion. But apparently, Ziva herself had other plans.

"No, it is okay, Doda. We can talk about her. I am not trying to hide anything. Besides," she leaned forward now, sparing Tony a sideways glance as she brought her elbows up to rest on the table, "Tony is more than just a coworker."

He nodded, a smile tugging at his lips, "A partner?"

"A friend," she corrected him.

He raised his eyebrows at her, "A best friend?"

She just smiled, "Sure. A best friend."

They both turned back to the Aunts at the same time, only to be met with three pairs of curious eyes. They all seemed to be watching the pair carefully as if they were about to reveal some important secret. Ziva just shrugged at them, and they all snapped out of it.

"Anyway, it was Rivka who inspired the garden."

"More like Rivka who designed it," Nettie corrected Adina.

"Sure, but it was the three of them -Tali, Ziva and Eli -who made it a reality," Hinda added.

Ziva shook her head, "I can hardly take credit. I wasn't around for most of it."

"That's right. You were completing your IDF service when most of the renovations were taking place," Nettie nodded along as she remembered, "But I would still say that you and Tali were very influential in the process. After all, it was that package of tulip seeds that you girls gave her that made her fall in love with gardening in the first place."

Ziva smiled a little, shifting in her seat so she could address Tony more directly, since she was sure the story wasn't making any sense to him, "Tali and I managed to talk this flower vendor down the road from our apartment into letting us pick the seeds out of some of the wilting tulips for my mother's birthday one year. We must have collected a hundred or so seeds, and we presented them to her like we were the most thoughtful daughters the world had ever seen. But there was one problem."

"Rivka hated Tulips," Adina told him.

"And she had a total brown thumb," Nettie added.

"Okay.." Ziva shrugged a little, "So maybe two problems."

Tony sat forward a bit, "Brown thumb?"

"Like the opposite of a green thumb," she explained.

He chuckled "You mean a black thumb."

"Does he always correct your English?" Hinda asked.

"Constantly," Ziva laughed lightly, "But I appreciate it… most of the time."

"Rivka pretended to be thrilled about the seeds. She planted a hand full of them in this giant pot that she kept on the balcony. And the girls were all excited to see the flowers grow and bloom-"

"But they never did," Hinda interjected.

Ziva shook her head, "No, they were just a little slow to start. But eventually, they shot right out of the dirt and bloomed all sorts of colors."

The Aunts all looked at each other.

"Oh dear," Nettie said, "Nobody ever told you, did they?"

"Told me what?" Ziva asked.

"The seeds never worked, Zivaleh. Well, not for the first few years. Rivka put them in the dirt, waited for them to grow, but nothing ever happened," Adina explained.

"So your mother would go out and buy a few dozen tulips from that same vendor and shove them into the pot for you. And you girls would go out onto the balcony the next day and get all excited about the blooms and start talking about how the seeds were the best birthday present your mother had ever gotten," Nettie continued, "And in a way they were. She just loved to watch you girls look at those flowers."

Tony smiled, imagining a tiny Ziva and an even tinier version of Tali (he had seen a photo of her once, and she was almost identical to her older sister) gushing over some cheap chopped tulips because they thought their mother had grown them all on her own. He could practically see the pride in their tiny eyes as they bragged about the best present ever.

Ziva sat back in her seat, and he got his first look at her glossy eyes, "That explains so much. I always wondered why they died so quickly."

"Well, that was what she did at first. Every year she would plant a few of those seeds, and every year she waited patiently for the latest gardening tips she had read up on while you girls were at school to take effect and produce beautiful, healthy flowers. But she never had any luck. That was, until you all moved into that ground floor flat on the north side of Tel Aviv."

Ziva's smile grew wider, "And she started actually planting them in the ground."

"Exactly. She took the last of her seeds and planted them all along the edge of that tiny little patio you guys had. It was her last chance. The next year, she would have to get more seeds."

"But lucky for her, every last one of those seeds grew into beautiful plants with colorful blooms. And you girls were beside yourselves. You couldn't believe how many flowers there were," Hinda let out the first genuine smile Tony had seen from her, and he decided that while she was definitely the scariest of the three Aunts, she just might be his favorite.

"And it was that summer that Tulips became my favorite flower," Ziva mused.

Noted, he thought.

"They became your mother's as well. She was so proud of herself. At the end of the season, she harvested all of the bulbs she could and planted more of them next spring," Adina laughed, "Even though there wasn't any more space."

"Yes. She planted some of them in the neighbor's yard. All of the neighbor's yards. And that was how we got evicted from that apartment," Ziva laughed.

"I still cannot believe that they kicked you out over such a foolish thing. She was only trying to share the beauty," Nettie sighed.

Ziva shrugged, "She wasn't surprised. When we got the notice that we had 30 days to move out, Aba was livid. But she just shrugged and told him that she did not want to live anywhere that valued ugly dirt over beautiful flowers anyway."

Tony found his own eyes getting a little watery. He wished he could have met Rivka David.

"Your mom sounds awesome," he mumbled to Ziva.

She smiled back at him, "She was."

"Anyways, after you guys moved out of that apartment, you ended up in another high rise building, and your mother was once again left with no yard to plant her tulips in," Adina explained.

"But by then, Abraham and I-" Nettie turned her head toward Tony, "Abraham was my husband - had already moved in here."

She gestured back toward the house, and Tony really looked at it for the first time. It was huge, much larger than it looked from the front, and had a wide staircase that led up to an extravagant looking back porch with stone pillars straight out of a gladiator movie. He could only imagine what the view of the city was like from up on the porch, considering how breathtaking the sight was on their drive up here.

"And your backyard was totally boring," Ziva pointed out, sounding every bit the naturalized American citizen she now was.

"Yes, it was. So we offered Rivka the back corner to plant her tulips. And the many other flowers she took to growing over the years."

Tony looked over at the square trellis he had been examining earlier. He saw Ziva nod at him as if confirming his suspicions.

"And she taught you girls every little thing she learned about gardening," Hinda added.

"Oh, yeah," Ziva looked over at Tony, "My cousin Levi used to pick Tali and I up from school and drive us over here to tend to the garden before we went home to eat dinner. It was part of our - what is that word… oh yes - chores."

"And Rivka was always coming up with new ideas for plants to grow and ways to arrange your little garden. It was so fun to see what you girls came up with every year," Nettie sighed.

The four Israeli women fell into a solemn silence, and Tony could feel in his gut what was coming next.

Ziva was the first to say it, though.

"When my mom got sick, she slowly stopped being able to work in the garden. It became Tali and I's responsibility to keep it going."

"And when you went off to complete your service, it became too much responsibility for one young girl. For the first time since you girls were very young, Rivka had to endure a summer with no Tulips to keep her company."

Tony leaned over to Ziva, "What did your mom have?"

"Cancer," Ziva whispered.

He nodded, "Mine too."

She flashed him a sad smile, "I know."

"Tali was just so upset that she wasn't able to maintain the garden. She was ashamed of herself, feeling like she had failed. And seeing Tali like that really got to Eli," Hinda explained.

"While my parents were no longer married, and they had not ended things on the best terms, Eli was still very much in love with my mother. And even more so with my sister," Ziva added.

"So he dug through a whole bunch of old boxes left behind when Rivka left and found some notes about garden designs she hadn't yet had time to try. And he gave Tali the artistic liberty to combine all of those ideas into one giant garden. For Rivka," Adina was looking around the landscape sadly, tears brimming in her own eyes.

"They managed to get everything ready just in time to plant all sorts of wonderful things for her to enjoy. Fruit, flowers, trees-"

"Everything appropriate for a proper garden," Ziva finished for Nettie. She had a strange incantation to her voice, leaving Tony to believe that she was reciting a quote from her mother, one that the other three women recognized as well.

"Yes. A proper garden. And when the doctors told us that there was nothing left to do but make Rivka as comfortable as possible, we brought her here. She lived in the house with Abe and I, and she spent every day out here in her garden, picking delicious fruit and enjoying the flowers."

Ziva turned her head to the side, and Tony could just barely make out the light tear tracks on her cheek before she wiped them away with a swift brush of her hand.

She finally took a long breath, swallowing hard just before she spoke, "She died later that year."

"Were you there?" He asked.

She shook her head, "I was stationed in Haifa. That was by far the best assignment I had received since starting my service. I thought I was having the time of my life."

He leaned forward, lifting his chair off the ground and moving it closer to hers. He was wanted to touch her, to try and comfort her somehow.

But Ziva wasn't big on PDA, even for purposes of emotional comfort, so he settled for bringing his hand up to the back of her chair, barely bushing it against her shoulder and finding a hidden strand of hair that he could twirl between his fingers without the aunts seeing it.

"I'm sorry, Zi," he whispered.

She shrugged, "Tali managed to get ahold of me. I had to practically beg for the week's leave it took to be home for her funeral. A few weeks later, it was Ari getting ahold of me to tell me about the explosion on the bus. After Tali's funeral, I left the IDF. I was already past my mandatory service anyway."

"And it was Ziva who made a point to maintain the garden. In memory of her mother, and her sister. And once she started traveling for her work with Mossad, the whole family started helping out. And now my sisters and I all live in the house together, and we get to look out over this beautiful landscape until it is our time to meet back up with the women who made it possible. What a wonderful legacy they have left behind."

"Yes," Ziva smiled, "Twenty years ago we were all kicked out of an apartment for trying to share the beauty of my mother's flowers, and now she gets to share them with her family every day. I am certain nothing would make her happier."

The solemn silence set in again, and Tony found himself boldly playing with more of her hair, twisting it between his fingers as her shoulders rose and fell with her calculated breaths.

"Well, I know I am great company, ladies, but you do not have to miss me so much," Schmiel's brilliant voice snuck up behind Tony again, and he was lucky not to jump and pull Ziva's hair in the process.

"DiNozzo," the old man continued, "Did you not entertain these lovely women while I was gone?"

Tony shrugged a little, opening his mouth to explain when Hinda beat him to it.

"We were just talking about Rivka. And how our garden came to be."

"Oh, I see," Schmiel acknowledged as he leaned against the back of the open chair.

"Please, Schmiel. Sit down and entertain us. We could all use some laughter at a moment like this," Adina smiled.

"Well, what is a man for, if not to make beautiful women smile. Am I right, Agent DiNozzo?"

Tony smiled half-heartedly at the old man as he gently lowered himself into the open chair and launched into some elaborate story about a supermarket. A few moments later, he heard the aunts laughing along with whatever tale was being told, but he had to admit he wasn't listening. He was watching Ziva's head swing back and forth as she examined her mother's garden.

Finally, it swung all the way back to look at him. Her eyes were soft, but determined. She slowly rose from her seat, leaving his hand hovering awkwardly above the back of her chair as her silky strands fell out of reach. She stepped around it and leaned over, one hand extended toward his and her lips just behind his ear.

"Come on," she whispered, "I want to show you something."

He rose from his seat automatically, taking her extended hand and letting her guide him away from their little gathering. He vaguely noted that she was leading him toward the back corner of the yard, to the square trellis she had already confirmed to be her mother's original garden, but his mind was too focused on the feeling of her skin against his (notably on the opposite hand from the one she had grabbed the other day, though he knew keeping tabs on such things was ridiculous since he had already been granted access to touch more than her hand).

As they got farther and farther from the table under the tree, he noticed that she was holding on to him tighter. Eventually, once the voices of her aunts and their old friend had faded out completely, she loosened her grip and slid her fingers into the spaces between his. He didn't comment on it, just gave her hand a gentle squeeze and continued to obediently walk beside her.

When they reached the trellis, he realized why he had not been able to make out anything beneath it earlier. Vines of bright green ivy trailed down from the top, forming a sort of natural curtain through which they had to step before he could see what was really inside. The ivy growing along the sides of the trellis had not been allowed to travel over the top of it, meaning there was full sunlight inside. And flowers. Lots and lots of one distinct type of flower.

He smiled to himself as he turned to examine a large plant beside him, each flower sporting brilliant pink petals, "I was wondering about this. All this talk of tulips and I couldn't find any in the actual garden."

Ziva watched him carefully, her mouth slightly open as if she was going to speak, but nothing came out. Finally, she tugged on his arm gently, signaling that she wanted him to follow as she stepped onto a concrete walking path that went around the small fountain structure in the center. He obeyed, never drifting more than a half step behind her as he looked around at all the beautiful flowers arranged in thoughtful patterns along the path.

She led him to the back of the smaller garden, right up to where the path stopped against the large natural wall. Then she turned and stared.

His lifted his eyebrows, "Is this your secret make-out spot?"

She shook her head.

"Secret sexy time spot?"

She shook it again.

He nodded slightly, "Okay. I get it. I've outlived my usefulness, right? This is where you kill me with one of your Mossad moves and then bury me among the flowers so I can fertilize the dirt."

She shook her head once more, but this time a sad little smirk tugged at her lips.

"Not you," she said as she leaned over and moved a particularly bushy plant to the side to reveal a brass colored placard on the ground.

He squinted down at it for a moment, struggling to read before it all started making sense.

"Oh. Your mom is buried here."

She nodded a little, squatting down so she could get a better look at the stone marking her mother's grave, "She told Tali that she wanted to be buried among her flowers. My sister and I fought over it because I thought she should be buried in a cemetery like a normal person. Tali told me she wasn't a normal person, she was our mom. So we buried her here. And that is the only argument that I have ever been happy about losing."

Tony smiled as he watched her brush her fingers over the lettering on the stone. Suddenly she stood up, letting the white tulips fall back over top the placard and looking at him.

"Can I show you something else?" She asked.

He just nodded.

She turned a little and crouched down to push some flowers back from the other side of the dead-end path. She looked back up at him, and he assumed that was his cue to bend down next to her.

Once he was down there, he saw what she was talking about. On the edge of the concrete were two sets of handprints. Next to them were messy letters, spelling out Ziva under one set and Tali under the smaller set.

"How old were you?"

She shrugged a bit, "I suppose I was 11. Maybe 12."

"So Tali was…"

"8."

He smiled at her, "I did the same thing at my stepmother's house when they poured the concrete for the new pool."

She smiled back.

"So, this spot right here is pretty important to you, huh?"

She nodded.

He looked around, trying to commit the surroundings to memory. He felt like he was inside Ziva's mind, like for the first time since he met her he could really understand what she was thinking.

He finally looked back over at her, "Thank you for showing it to me."

"You are welcome," she said as she let go of the bushy plant again and let it cover up the tiny handprints.

He stood up first, then offered her his hands. She took them and let him pull her off the ground. Once they were both up, they stood there awkwardly for a moment.

"So…" he started, "Now what do we do?"

She shrugged, "I guess we go back out there and continue visiting with my aunts."

He sighed, "I was hoping you would suggest we make this into your new secret make-out spot."

Her eyebrows shot up, "Here? In front of my mother?"

He looked back over at the white flowers that he now knew sat on top of Rivka's grave.

"Okay, fair point. Let's go see what's going on with the Dodas."

She shook her head a bit as she stepped around him and started leading the way out of the little garden, "It is dodot, Tony. In Hebrew, you do not make words plural by adding an 's'."

He shrugged, "Okay, let's see what's going on with the dodot."

He butchered the pronunciation, and he was almost certain the grammar was still very wrong, but he saw Ziva turn around and give him an appreciative smile as he took a chance at using a part of her native language.

As they stepped out of the ivy curtain and started walking back toward the shaded table, Tony found himself asking a question without thinking about it.

"Do you think your mom would have liked me?"

Ziva looked over at him, confused at first before letting her face break into a brilliant smile, "Absolutely not."

That had certainly not been the answer he was expecting.

"Wait, what? Really?"

She nodded, the smile still there, "Really."

He frowned at her, "Why not?"

"Oh, you know. The same reason why any Israeli mother would despise the American man her daughter brought home."

"Being?"

She laughed lightly, "Because you are not Jewish."

His eyebrows furrowed together, "Your mom actually cared about that sort of thing?"

"Oh, yeah."

He continued to frown to himself. They took several steps in tense silence before he felt her hand close around his forearm and bring him to a stop beside her.

"My mother cared about that stuff, Tony. Not me."

"Yeah, I know. I just wanna think she would have liked me, you know? That she would have deemed me worthy of being with her daughter."

"Well, would your mother have liked me?"

He laughed a bit, "Are you kidding me? My mom would have adored you, Zi."

A shy smile graced her lips, "Seriously?"

"Seriously."

She thought about that for a second before shrugging, "I guess it is a cultural thing?"

"Yeah, that's probably it," he admitted as they both turned to continue walking toward the house. He felt her hand slide into his once again and smiled.

They walked in comfortable silence for a while until he spoke again.

"That's probably why your dad didn't like me either, right? Because I'm not Jewish?"

She cocked her head to the side as she thought about how to answer that. Finally, she settled on a weak, "Yeah, of course. I am sure that was it."

He looked over at her tight-lipped expression and frowned again.

"There was another reason?"

"Let's just get back to the table, Tony."

"Did he tell you something?"

"I have no idea what you are talking about. Let's just sit back down."

He nodded a little and stayed quiet for a few more steps.

"It was because I intimidated him, right?"

"Tony!"

"You don't have to answer that. I already know. I intimidated him."

She rolled her eyes and looked over at him to find his cheeky little smirk peeking out again.

"You are ridiculous."

He smiled, "I know. It's part of my charm. Drives all the ladies crazy."

She shook her head, "You drive me crazy. But it has nothing to do with your charm."

He tugged on her hand, inching her closer to his side so he could lean over and place a quick kiss on her cheek just before she pushed him away.

She let out a frustrated groan, but her lips were turned up in a tiny smile, "It is like dating a child."

"Oh? So we're dating now?"

"Shut up, Tony."

"Hey, I'm just looking for a little clarity here. A little DTR. That stands for define the relationship, in case you didn't know."

"You are still talking?"

"Well, yeah, Zeevah. I'm still talking cause you're still avoiding the question."

"What question?"

"The one about our relationship."

"There won't be a relationship if you do not shut up."

"Oh, you don't mean that."

"Would you like to bet?"

"I would actually, and I'll tell you something else, I-"

* * *

Four heads turned as the sound of two voices broke through the peaceful quiet of the garden. All eyes landed on the couple walking hand in hand through the trees. They watched as the man pulled the woman closer and placed a kiss on her cheek before she shoved him playfully.

"Remind you of anyone?" Adina asked.

Nettie nodded, "She is the spitting image of her mother, is she not?"

"But Anthony is nothing like Eli, I can assure you of that," Schmiel added.

"I just want our sweet girl to be happy, Khaver Vetiq. She deserves that much," Adina sighed.

"I will not try to speak for Ziva, but I will voice my own observations. They seem to be a good fit. He makes her laugh. He looks out for her. I should think we could all die content knowing that he is taking care of her," Schmiel admitted.

"I think he is her beshert," Nettie confessed.

"Soulmates? You know, I do not believe in such things," Adina replied.

"And neither did Ziva before she moved to America," Nettie pointed out.

"Hinda, what do you think?"

The two women turned to look at their eldest sister, whose eyes were still trained on the pair.

The woman sighed, "I think we should go inside. It is getting too hot under the mid-day sun. And we are almost entirely out of tea."

The younger sisters exchanged a look before pushing back their chairs and rising to their feet. Schmiel followed their lead, reaching over to grab the mostly empty kettle off the table. The three of them started making their way towards the house, each at their own hobbled speed.

Hinda remained for a minute longer, watching the bickering couple. She finally stood, gathering the few scattered tea cups into her hand before turning to follow the rest of her group.

* * *

Hebrew Translations:

"Boker Tov, Doda" = "Good morning, Aunt."

"Ken. Ani mitstaeret. Lehiteraott makhar." = "Yes. I am sorry. See you tomorrow."

"tafessiq 'im zeh" = "Shame on you" (I think...?)

"Ahuva" = "One who is loved by others" / Loved one

"Pashutt Teraga" = "Calm down"

"Khaver Vetiq" = "Old friend"


	5. Chapter 5

**Hey guys!**

 **I've been wrestling with this chapter for days and I finally got a version that I like so I'm just going to post it before I overthink things and change my mind (story of my life). If you were looking for smut from this story, I've decided not to go that route. Maybe I'll put out some smut one-shots soon to make up for it. It just didn't feel right for this one.**

 **But I really hope you guys like this chapter! I have no idea when I'm going to post again, but I do have the next few chapters planned out so hopefully it won't be too long!**

 **Reviews are always very much welcome. They make me smile and really motivate me to write. You guys are honestly so nice it blows my mind.**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

"What about the Dead Sea?"

Ziva nodded slightly as she brought her glass to her lips and took another sip of its deep purple content, "We can do that. I assume you want to swim in it?"

"What else would we do there?" Tony asked, reaching out for his own glass and mirroring her actions from across the kitchen.

"There are lots of things to do around Kalia. Diving. Hiking. Caves," She gestured vaguely with her hand, and he got distracted by the way her silver watch band sparkled in the low light.

He recovered quickly, but he could tell by the small curl of her lips that she recognized his late response, "Diving sounds like drowning. Hiking sounds sweaty. And I haven't been in a cave since my senior camping trip when piggy's headlamp died and we spent an hour huddled together in near complete darkness before anybody even realized we were gone."

She nodded at this, pushing herself off the marble countertop behind her and taking the few steps necessary to cross the small kitchen and lean against the breakfast bar, "Swimming it is, then. All the better to fit in like a common tourist."

He sat up a little straighter in his bar stool, suddenly defiant, "Hey, _I am_ a common tourist. Hence my Israeli bucket list."

"Right. Because we wouldn't want anyone thinking that you flew all this way just to spend time with _me_ ," She smirked as she slowly lifted her glass again and finished off the expensive wine.

"You're getting cocky, David. Who says I'm here for you?" He leaned forward slowly, resting his forearms on the counter between them.

Her smirk only grew larger, "Oh? Then what are you here for, Tony?"

Had this been a few days earlier, he would have assumed that he imagined the way she started leaning forward as well, her glass carefully placed to the side as she helped him close the distance. He shifted his weight off the stool and onto his feet in order to get a better angle.

It wasn't until they were close, a mere foot of space separating their bodies as they both leaned over the breakfast bar, that he decided it was time to respond. So he shrugged casually, "I'll travel for good hummus."

She let out a clipped laugh, half amusement and half annoyance, before rolling the rest of the way onto her toes and capturing his lips for a slow and searing kiss.

If their precarious position, both leaning up and over the countertop, sounds awkward, that's because it was. And it was this awkwardness, the strange ways that Tony had to contort his neck in order to maintain contact with her gloriously soft and wine-stained lips, that caused his muscles to shriek in renewed pain. He winced visibly, pulling back and immediately bringing a hand up to try and rub the stiffness out of his shoulder.

Ziva was slow to open her eyes after his outburst, and when she finally did he could see her watching his movements with a mixture of frustration and pity.

Finally, she sighed, "You are not doing yourself any favors rubbing at it like that."

"What are you, a masseuse?" He tried not to sound annoyed, but it crept into his voice. He had been thoroughly enjoying that kiss.

"Technically, no. But I know a thing or two about sore muscles. Come here," she said as she rounded the breakfast bar and slid into place behind his chair.

He let her gently brush his hands away from his shoulder, her own quickly replacing them to run along the bones for a moment. She then ran them down his back, her palms mapping out all of his muscles through his button-up, before tracing the line of his spine up to where it connected to his neck.

Tony bit back a groan, his hand reaching up to grip the counter as he fought against the shiver her touch threatened to evoke. Frankly, he was experiencing Ziva overload. Between her hands on his shoulders, her breath on the back of his neck, and the occasional waft of a scent he could only ever describe as distinctly _her_ , he was starting to get dizzy. He had enjoyed spending all day with Schmiel and the Aunts, but aside from the few stolen touches they shared in the garden, he had spent the majority of the time at a safe distance from his partner. Transitioning back into their new normal of being so hands-on with each other was proving to be a bit of a whirlwind for him. And as much as he wanted to lose himself in the feeling, to get another taste of that sickeningly sweet sensation he had discovered just a couple of days ago in a fancy rooftop bar, he couldn't. Not tonight. At least not _yet_.

"Relax, Tony," She whispered, her lips suddenly so close to his ear that he could feel them move with each word, "Is this not what you asked for earlier?"

He swallowed as her hands seemed to find their most optimal position with her thumbs just inside his shoulder blades, and she started slowly kneading the stiff muscles.

"I didn't think you'd actually do it," he admitted.

"Why not? You were well behaved. You deserve a reward."

Her hands worked their way up to his neck, expertly working to relieve all the tension there. His knuckles started turning white from his grip on the counter.

"Any chance I can trade this reward in for another?"

Her hands froze, "Are you not enjoying it?"

He shook his head, "I am. I can just think of a couple of other activities that I might enjoy a bit more."

Her hands resumed their work, "Is that why you are so tense? Do you not trust that I will ensure our night ends in the bedroom?"

He responded with a half shrug, no longer trusting his voice as he tried to focus on something that wasn't her.

But she continued to make that hard, leaning forward again so she could practically whisper in his ear, "I can assure you, with 100% certainty, that you are going to get laid tonight, DiNozzo. So just relax," she ducked her head, moving a hand out of the way so she could press her lips to his collarbone softly, "And enjoy the ride."

As she pulled back, Tony felt something inside him let go. Something deep in his gut that he hadn't even known he had been holding on to. Sure, she had addressed his immediate desire, calming his anxieties over _when exactly_ their relationship was going to become intimate (because he had seen enough movies to know that there was a crucially important window of time in which it must do so if it is going to survive the transition from platonic to romantic). But she also seemed to have soothed a much larger issue, a subtle longing that he had felt for as long as he could remember, a pure and simple desire for _her_ that had been so thoroughly suppressed for years that he could barely recognize it at this point. After all the teasing, after all that time of her speaking so frankly about sexual matters as if it wasn't driving him insane to think about her in that way, he was finally, _for sure,_ going to sleep with the woman he hadn't stopped thinking about since she strolled into the bullpen 8 years ago.

So yeah, he relaxed. And it felt so good to surrender himself to her, to stop pretending that this wasn't it, that she wasn't the one thing he wanted more than life itself. The pure bliss of letting go and allowing himself the freedom of falling under her spell and being seduced by Ziva freaking David was indescribable.

She obviously noticed the change in his demeanor, and let out a quiet chuckle as he practically melted under her touch, "There you go. Geez, the way you are acting, one would assume it had been _you_ who was rejected the other night."

Even in his mind-numbingly peaceful state, he could sense the slight bite of an accusation in her voice. He sat up a little straighter, ready to vehemently deny it, but her thumb suddenly dug into a particularly tight tendon running along his collar bone, and he found himself deflating once again, only managing out a measly little, "I did not reject you."

"Oh really? Because from what I remember, I was practically begging you for sex, and you were making a see-line for the couch."

"Bee-line" he corrected automatically before sighing, "And I was trying to be respectful. You were drunk. And emotional. I didn't want you to wake up and feel like I had taken advantage of you."

"I was _not_ drunk."

"Okay, whatever. You weren't quite yourself. And that's understandable. A lot has been going on lately. A lot has changed. And you seem to be taking the brunt of it. And then to have an old friend - one of the few truly familiar things in your life at the moment - turn on you like that… that's tough, Zi. Even for you. And as beautiful and sexy as you are, that's not why I want to have sex with you. I want you for _you,_ not just your body. And if you aren't _you,_ then I don't want anything to do with it," he let out a long sigh as her hands continued to work their magic,"Am I making any sense?"

"I think so, though that could be the wine talking. But I find that very sweet of you, Tony. And very mature."

He nodded, "It wouldn't have felt right. Besides, drunk and dirty really wasn't the way I pictured my first time with you."

"No?"

He shook his head, "My first time with you is important. It means something to me. There will be plenty of naughty playtime later on. I just want to start things off right."

Her hands stopped, resting on his shoulders as she took a breath. He thought about turning around to get a glimpse at her face, hoping it would give him some sort of insight into what she was thinking. But before he could do so, she seemed to recover as her hands slowly started kneading his sore muscles again.

She didn't say anything for a minute, and he let himself lean back just a bit so he could feel the heat of her body behind him.

"You, Tony DiNozzo, are the most romantic playboy I have ever met."

He smiled a full-toothed grin as he sat up a little straighter and twisted his body so she could see it (which mercifully did not cause him any pain), "I watch a lot of movies."

She laughed, throwing her head back in that carefree way he loved so much before she abandoned her massage and reached a hand around to cup his cheek.

He could take a hint, so he quickly turned himself around the rest of the way and kissed her, grabbing her waist and pulling her flush against his body.

There were so many things he loved about kissing Ziva. For starters, he loved how freaking good she was at it. Her inhumanly soft lips seemed to know exactly what he liked, moving out of the way so she could sink her teeth into his lower one (something he loved more than words could describe) and then falling right back into position for he could return the favor. Then there were her hands, which always seemed to slide gracefully around his body in an almost reverent way as if she were holding something rare and priceless. The hands also tended to wander, which he loved, each time dipping lower on his abdomen or his back until she was eventually fingering the waistband of his pants, even once dipping lower until she had a nice handful of his ass (which he also loved more than words could describe but he would literally never admit to). He loved the fact that he could feel the muscles of her neck move as she kissed him. He loved tangling his fingers him her hair, currently down and straight and so irresistible. He definitely loved the little gasp she made when he pulled on it, probably a little harder than necessary but certainly a move he planned on repeated in the near future.

Something he didn't love? His phone going off right about the same time her nimble fingers had found their way to the top button of his shirt.

So he groaned, but he didn't stop kissing her. His hands dropped from her hair and grabbed for her hips, hoping to keep her in place in front of him.

That move, however, was not successful, as she managed to slip out of his grasp easily before reaching over his shoulder for the phone. She held it up, her lips still on his, and read the caller ID.

Finally, she pulled away, "It is McGee."

He shrugged, "Let it go to voicemail."

She looked back over at the phone for a moment before he reached a hand up to take it from her, pressing the ignore button and setting the device carelessly on the stool next to them before returning his fingers to her hair and pulling her lips to his again.

She gave in pretty quickly, her own fingers finding their way to the based of his neck to tangle in the hair there. The kissing resumed it's fervor quickly, and it wasn't long before she was back to fumbling with his shirt buttons, which he graciously let her do until she managed to get them all undone. Her hands were cold as they brushed over his bare skin, and he was even more grateful considering how hot the apartment had gotten. They slid up his body, her fingers tangling in his chest hair (he _knew_ she wasn't immune to its charm) before sliding over his shoulders and forcing the fabric down his arms.

He was just letting go of her ass, which he had been enthusiastically squeezing because wow it was amazing, when the phone went off again.

This time he reached for her face, flattening his palms on her cheeks to hold her to him. She pulled back slightly, her forehead still pressed against his as she caught her breath.

"You should really answer that. There could be news."

He shook his head, "I don't care. No news is more important than this."

He pulled her in for a kiss, slow and soft as if punctuating his point before resting his forehead against hers again. She sighed happily, catching her bottom lip between her teeth for a moment before reaching for the annoying little device and pressing the ignore button. She tossed it back on the stool before grabbing for the collar of his open shirt.

She pulled on the fabric, guiding him up and off the stool, then she went back to forcing it off his arms, letting it fall limply to the floor and he started carefully walking them backward. He wasn't super familiar with the layout of the room, but he was aiming for the small hallway. They managed to dodge the corner of the couch by a narrow margin, so he figured he was doing a decent job at it. That was, until her back came into contact with a wall, and he spared a sideways glance only to realize they were a little over a foot away from his intended target.

He didn't care, though, because she used the wall to arch deliciously into him, pressing herself firmly against his body as her cold hands roamed across his shoulders and back. He used her closeness as an excuse to slide her blouse up a little and run his own hands over some bare skin.

The blouse kept sliding upwards, bunching up at the base of her breasts. His hands slid up under the material a bit, reaching for the clasp of her bra in the hopes of removing both articles of clothing on one motion (his typical undressing protocol be damned, he was gunning for some skin to skin contact).

But as he was struggling to unclasp it (what was it, _welded_ together?) the phone started ringing again.

He groaned, and she let her body slump back against the wall, her shirt falling to cover her tan stomach once again.

They stared at each other for a long moment, both sets of eyes burning with the heat of their frustration.

She seemed to be the first one to regain her voice, "Answer the damn thing, Tony. He will just keep calling."

"Then I'll turn off the phone," he grunted.

She looked at him sternly, "Rule number 3."

"I thought we ditched the damn rules when we turned in our badges."

She shook her head, "Only the stupid ones."

She smirked as she ran a hand up his arm and curled it around the back of his neck, pulling his lips down for a simple kiss to remind him that the stupidest rule of all was long behind them.

"But he is your friend. And you have probably got him all worried now. You know he gets flustered easily."

She slowly ran her hand farther up his neck before settling it on his cheek.

He stared at her, trying to judge how successful he might be at distracting her so she would forget about their nosy coworker.

But he figured it wouldn't work, and that was only emphasized when she rolled onto her toes to press a light kiss to his other cheek.

"What did I tell you earlier?" She whispered.

"That I'm definitely getting laid?"

She chuckled, and he felt her breath roll across his skin as she did, "Precisely. A little phone call isn't going to change that outcome. So answer it. And I'll be waiting for you in the bedroom."

She slipped out from under him in that effortless way only a ninja could manage. She walked across the room, picking his phone up off the stool and bringing it over to him. She held it in front of herself, and he brought one hand up to grab the phone while the other gently grabbed her wrist.

"This won't take long. I won't let it."

She smirked, "I know. Because if you're not done in 10 minutes, I'm starting without you."

And with that, she stepped around him and silently made her way down the hall.

Once she disappeared into the bedroom, he let out the low groan he had been holding back. Damn McGee. Damn phone. Damn sexy ninja.

But he figured the sooner he answered, the sooner the call would be over, so he brought the phone up to his ear and pressed answer, his eyes still looking down the hallway as the light in the bedroom turned on and he saw her shadow moving around for a few seconds before she closed the door.

"What, McCockblock?"

"Tony, I gotta warn you. Abby-"

There was a thump on the line.

"Hey!" McGee cried.

"You deserved that. I'm not doing this to be nosy, and I'm NOT being overprotective! I am doing this for… I knew it!"

Tony's eyebrows drew together as he tried to piece together what was happening on the other end of the line. McGee's voice sounded farther away, and Abby's was right next to the phone. He could also hear a muted hum in the background, leading him to believe they were in her lab.

"Hey, Abs. I don't know what you're-"

"Don't you 'Hey Abs' me! You're in Israel!"

"He's what?" McGee's voice was suddenly much closer, and much more confused.

"He's in Israel! With Ziva!"

"Woah, Abby. You traced my phone?"

"I had to! You didn't tell any of us you were even leaving! And then you were ignoring our calls!"

"Well, yeah. I was sorta in the middle of doing something."

"Was it Ziva? Were you _doing_ Ziva?" She asked excitedly, and he could just picture her pigtails bouncing up and down with every word.

"Abby!" Tim scolded her.

"Oh, don't be oblivious, Tim! Why else would he be in Israel?"

There was a moment of silence as McGeeky tried to come up with a reason. He seemed to settle on, "Because he's a good friend. And Ziva's been through a lot lately. He probably just didn't want her to be alone."

Abby scoffed, "Sure, that _might_ have been the reason he went. Maybe. But even so, there's no way that's still the case. Think about it, Timmy. Tony and Ziva… all alone… halfway across the world… no more rule 12 keeping them apart…"

"Come on. Tony and Ziva aren't like that."

"Yeah, okay. And Gibbs isn't a stone cold silver fox. Honestly, Tim, you can't tell me you don't see it. I mean, we all know what happened in Paris!"

"Yeah, Tony took the couch."

"Oh, your naivety is almost cute. Almost."

"Uh, hey guys? Do you need me for this conversation? Because there is a drop-dead gorgeous woman waiting on me, and my 10 minutes is almost up."

"What happens after 10 minutes?" McGee asked.

"Something I would really like to see, but would much rather do myself tonight. So if you don't mind…"

"Tell Ziva we said hi! And use protection!" Abby called.

"What makes you think he's talking about Ziva?"

"Oh, Timmy. I think we need to have _the talk._ You see, when a man and a woman really love each other…"

Tony chuckled to himself as he hung up the phone. He shoved it into his pocket before turning back toward the hallway. He paused, taking a long deep breath.

"Alright, DiNozzo. Here goes nothing," he mumbled to himself, running a hand through his hair as he started down the hall.

He pushed the bedroom door open slowly, half expecting to find her sprawled out on the bed, possibly following through on her threat. But she wasn't, and he found a scene that was eerily similar to what he had walked into the other day. There was a lamp turned on, and a tiny sliver of light coming through a crack in the door to the bathroom. Aside from that, there was no sign of life.

He stepped all the way into the room, closing the door behind him before he crossed over to the bed. He sat down on it quietly, bending down to take off his shoes.

"You're cutting it pretty close, Tony."

Her voice came from the bathroom, but she hadn't emerged yet.

"I know. The wonder twins were discussing the intricacies of our relationship from their differing perspectives."

"So they know we are together?"

Her voice was a little muffled by the door, so he couldn't quite make out her inflection.

"They know I'm here. And they know there is no other reason I'd be here but you."

"Did you tell them about the hummus?"

He chuckled, carefully setting his shoes at the end of the bed, "I did not. But it wouldn't have fooled them much. Abby says hi. And to use protection."

He heard her laugh quietly. He took the opportunity to look around the room, finding that his mind was much clearer now than it had been a few days ago when he first saw it. Maybe it had been the jetlag or just the anxiety over their complicated circumstances. But either way, he had somehow missed so many of the telling details in the space. Like the way, the carpet was worn down in certain places, particularly in a path directly from the door to the bed. He could picture Ziva, the young 23-year-old one coming back from a long mission and collapsing in bed, not bothering to unpack or clean herself up in her exhausted state. Her closet doors sat open, and he noticed a large black box on one of the shelves with a red cross on it. It had to be the largest first aid kit he had ever seen. And the fact that she kept it in her bedroom instead of the hall closet suggested it got used regularly. On the floor of the closet, partially disguised as shoe storage, was a fireproof safe. It was a decent size, and considering it wasn't very like her to use it for weapons storage, he assumed it was full of doctored documents for a hand full of aliases. It was all so strange, these little reminders of how dangerous her life used to be mixed in with her typical classy home decor. It was a good reminder of just how far she had come since she joined their team 8 years ago. And how lucky they were to have her.

"How did they find out you are here?"

Her voice was clearer than it had been a moment ago, which caused him to look back over toward the bathroom, only to be met with the most glorious sight he could have imagined.

She was leaning against the door frame with her arms crossed over her chest. In her current position, his eyes couldn't decide where to focus: the black satin robe with crimson red and white flowers spread across its surface, the deep crimson slip peeking out from under it and falling so gloriously over her curves until it cut off on her upper thigh, or her face perfectly framed by her long hair as she stared at him with the most picturesque cat-who-ate-the-canary look because she knew _exactly_ what she was doing to him.

Because god, she was doing something to him. Tony wasn't a lingerie snob by any stretch of the imagination. In fact, he normally found the lacey, strappy, see-through contraptions that women squeezed themselves into for him to be a waste of time. He was perfectly content, if not happier removing clothing piece by piece to reveal his prize. Lingerie normally took the fun out of it for him. Not to mention some women insisted on keeping their little outfits on throughout the night, and that was just _not_ his style.

But, of course, Ziva had a way of taking something he thought he knew and turning it on its head. Because it was so simple, really, to put on a robe and a slip and call it lingerie, and yet so glorious to look at. And his palms were itchy just thinking about how amazing it would be to touch.

His eyes eventually made their way back up to her face, and it wasn't until he noticed that she was giving him a quizzical eyebrow that he remembered she had asked him a question.

So he cleared his throat and searched his brain desperately for an answer to a question he completely forgot.

"Uh… Abby tracked my phone."

Thankfully, the answer seemed to make sense, as she nodded her head before pushing off the door frame. She walked over to him, and he couldn't help how his eyes fixated on the triangular patches of lace over her rib cage, giving the whole ensemble just the right amount of skin.

Before he knew it, she was standing in front of him, one hand on her hip and the other extended between them.

He must have looked confused because she helpfully instructed him.

"Give me your phone."

He reached into his pocket automatically, pulling out the device and placing it in her waiting hand.

She smirked, knowing full well that he would do _anything_ she asked him to. But instead of abusing her power, she simply held up his phone so he could see her turn it off. Then she turned and walked over to the dresser to set it down next to her own.

"Abby get you paranoid? Because I don't think she's gonna bother tracking yours too."

She looked over at him as she turned off her own phone, "She can track me all she wants. What she can't do is interrupt us. Again."

She set her phone back down and made her way back to Tony, swaying her hips as she walked. Once in front of him, she brushed her hands up his arms to rest them on the back of his neck. He enthusiastically reached for her, smoothing his hands over her hips to feel the silky material.

"What about rule number 3?" He asked.

She shrugged slightly, "Desperate times call for desperate measures."

He chuckled, dropping his head to take in the sight before him from a closer perspective, finding the way her breasts were cupped by the slip and the slight glint of her Star of David just above them to be quite hypnotizing.

"Desperate times they are," he mumbled before forcing himself to look back up at her face, "You look amazing, by the way."

"I'm glad you think so. I was afraid you would be disappointed in the lack of clothing for you to remove. I know that's your favorite part."

He sighed dramatically, sliding his hands around to her lower back and pulling her closer, craning his neck to he could rest his forehead against hers, "Now how the _hell_ would you know that?"

She smiled down at him, "I just know _you_ , Tony."

"And you're still here?"

Her smile widened, "I'm still here. I'll always be here. That's what happens when you fall in love with someone."

And at that, he couldn't wait any longer. So he titled his head to capture her lips. And a minute or so later, he helped her slide the robe off her shoulders. After a while he trailed kisses from her neck down to her chest, cheekily tugging the satin material to the side so he could continue his kisses along the soft skin of her breast. Eventually, he managed to tug on her waist hard enough that he practically threw her onto the bed. Later he trailed his hand slowly up her body, starting at her knee and gathering the satin of her slip farther and farther up until he was tugging it over her head and she was laying beneath him in nothing but her panties, which he removed only moments later. And at some point in all of this, she had managed to get him out of his pants and then his boxers, and she left her own trail of kisses from his neck down his shoulder, some of which he was pretty sure were going to leave marks. All in all, they both took their time exploring the new terrain that they had gained the rights to, mapping it out for current and future use.

And by the time they fell asleep, both sweaty and exhausted from their pursuits, it was safe to say they had started things off right. And they only let things get a _little_ naughty… this time.


	6. Chapter 6

It was a noise, some sort of thump in the distance, that originally disrupted his deep, glorious slumber.

Tony groaned, rolling onto his side and sliding his arm out, mercifully coming into contact with another body, which he immediately identified a Ziva when she let out her own little groan and rolled in his direction. Her hair fanned across his chest as she settled into place against him, letting out a content little sigh.

He smiled to himself, knowing that there was no better way to start his day that by playing the role of the faithful pillow to his partner. Especially when she's naked.

And between the still quiet of the room and the gentle sound of her even breaths, he found himself drifting back off to a peaceful sleep.

Then there was another thump, this one closer than the last and most definitely originating from inside of the apartment.

Now, in Tony's defense, his brain really wasn't awake enough for deductive reasoning. So it wasn't until he felt Ziva move, sitting straight up and turning to face the door, that he realized what the problem was. If he was in bed, and she was also in the bed… then who the hell was in the living room?

"Tony," she whispered as one hand reached back to shake his shoulder, her eyes never leaving the door.

He pulled himself up, the sheet pooling around his hips as he watched Ziva, so still and silent that she couldn't possibly be breathing. He could practically hear the gears in her head turning as she assessed their situation and chose her next move.

Which happened to be sliding off the bed, holding one hand up in his direction, as if telling him to stay put, as she carefully tugged open the drawer to her bedside table. She pulled out a tiny silver revolver, checking to make sure it was loaded before she started for the door. She stopped next to his open suitcase on the way, grabbing a plain white t-shirt off the top of the pile and tugging it over her head before continuing on her way. He silently commended her for having the mental clarity to not face their potential attackers completely nude.

He watched as she opened the bedroom door silently, tucking her right arm with the gun in her hands as she stepped out into the hallway.

Just a moment later, Tony slid himself off the bed, moving excruciatingly slow as he crossed the room and found a pair of discarded boxers to pull on before he joined her in the hallway.

There he found her already in position, her back flat against the wall as she sidestepped her way toward the living room and the location of the next loud thump, followed by some general shuffling noises.

She looked back at him once more, giving him a pointed look (he had completely ignored her last request to stay put, so he supposed this was her second attempt) before stepping around the corner and raising her gun.

There was a long moment of silence before he heard Ziva say, "Maya?"

"Chara, Ziva! Watch where you are pointing that thing! I have kids to take care of. Not to mention a clueless husband who cannot do anything without me."

Assuming this exchange meant that there was no longer a threat, Tony quietly made his way to end of the hall, emerging into the living room to find Ziva standing behind the couch, her gun slowly coming down to dangle at her hip, and her best friend Maya Cohen (who he was thankfully able to recognize from their date at the bar) across the room in the kitchen.

"What are you doing here?" Ziva asked.

"You gave me a key," Maya replied simply, lifting a bowl of bright red apples from the kitchen counter to sit on top of the breakfast bar, "And the girls had a field trip this week. Apparently, at the apple orchard, they give the kids the choice of what part of the growing process they want to learn the most about. And if you choose the harvest, you get to bring home your bounty. Guess what my daughters chose."

She gestured to the large bowl of fresh fruit.

Ziva chuckled, "Thank you. But you know that key is only for emergencies."

"It was an emergency! Nobody had heard from you since the bar the other night, and I had been trying to call you all morning! I used the apples as an excuse to do a welfare check. And what does my concern for my oldest friend get me? A gun in the face!"

Here, Ziva had the good sense to look embarrassed as she slowly set her gun on the nearest side table.

"Also, I was dying to know what happened between you and your American boyfriend. But based on your state of undress," Maya's eyes drifted over to Tony as he continued to stand awkwardly against the wall, "I would say that things have progressed nicely."

Ziva followed her gaze and gave Tony a once over before turning back to her friend, "He is not my boyfriend."

Maya shrugged, "Call him whatever you want. A rose by another name. Point is, I am happy for you, Zivi."

Ziva ran her fingers through her hair as her friend pulled out her phone and checked the time.

"Oh, I really need to get going. I have lots to do before sunset. Speaking of which, I should probably tell you that I promised the girls you would be at dinner tonight."

"Without even asking me?"

"I had to tell them something! They got it in their heads that you flew all this way just for their birthday."

"Shit," Ziva mumbled, "That was yesterday. I completely forgot."

"It is fine. Hunky men tend to impact memory. Consider your attendance at dinner tonight to be your gift. Besides, Noah would love to see you. And Aaron as well."

"We will be there."

"Perfect. And do not worry about pitching in. Aaron's mother is coming, which means we will already have more food than we can eat," Maya walked to the door without taking her eyes away from her phone, only sparing a split second to look up and add, "See you later, Tony," in a cheeky voice that was clearly meant to taunt her friend.

And then she was gone, yanking open the front door and shutting it quickly behind her. He even heard the click of her locking it from the outside.

Ziva stared at the closed door as she crossed the room as if anticipating Maya's return. Once she was confident it wasn't going to happen, she turned to face Tony, leaning casually against the breakfast bar.

"Now what?" He asked.

She shrugged a bit before reaching over her shoulder and grabbing an apple. She made a show of cleaning it off on his t-shirt before holding it up for him to see. Then she tossed it at him.

He caught it effortlessly, giving her a confused look as she reached around and got another, this time taking a bite out of it herself.

"What's this for?"

"Breakfast. Eat up. Bedroom activities resume at 0900."

He watched her take another bite as a painfully large grin spread across his face. She met it with her own smirk, and they continued to just stand there for a minute, grinning at each other like idiots.

* * *

"What exactly are we looking for again?" Tony asked as they rounded another corner only to find a makeshift alley lined with small merchant stalls, nearly identical to the one they had just been walking down. He was starting to suspect that they were lost.

"Something that looks like it came from America," Ziva responded.

He nodded as if this response made total sense to him. After all, he really didn't care what they were looking for. He was perfectly content to walk aimlessly by her side through the winding streets of Jaffa Port until she found whatever obscure item she was after.

It was a truly beautiful day in Israel. The sun was shining, and the slight breeze coming off the water seemed to be keeping the heat in the moderately tolerable range. Ziva looked absolutely radiant with her wild curls pinned partially back and a simple yellow tank top over her jeans shorts that just made her skin look like pure honey. There were people all around them, and Tony found the persistent buzz of Hebrew to be oddly comforting. He was really taking a liking to the language, even more so now that he knew just how amazing it could sound pouring out of his partner's mouth as she squirmed beneath him. He just might have to learn how to speak it one of these days.

Then there was the fact that every one and a while, seemingly at random, Ziva would turn away from looking at this item or that and she would reach out for his hand, interlocking their fingers as they mosied on down the next alleyway. Then she would see something else she wanted to check out, and his hand would be dropped, left to dangle uselessly at his side until she decided she wanted to grab it again. As far as he was concerned, this was the best game of Russian Roulette he had ever played.

But despite his complete comfort and enjoyment in all of the things going on around him, he still managed to find her response to his question strange.

"Why do you want something that looks like it came from the states?" He asked as his eyes drifted over a display of intricately woven rugs. There were such beautiful things available here that you could never dream of getting in America. Why pass those up?

"Because I want something I can give the girls tonight. And to them, the coolest thing about me is that I live in America," she shrugged.

"So you're gonna buy something here and pretend you got it back home… to trick a couple of kids into liking you more?"

"Precisely," she confirmed, barely getting the word out before she disappeared to look at yet another item of interest.

He sighed, looking around for something to pique his own interest. Surprisingly, he found a well-lit display case tucked inside one of the stalls. On the wall behind it was an advertisement for some sort of watch. He looked down at his current one, nearly 5 years old and barely managing to keep up. He could use an upgrade.

So he wandered over there, adopting the appropriate persona of nonchalance that he knew to be necessary in these sorts of situations. Anthony DiNozzo could bargain with the best of them, and he was prepared to talk his way into a dirt cheap watch.

He didn't realize the flaw in his plan until he was standing in front of the case, peering down at a row of Cartier watches. He looked up, trying to locate the owner of the little shop.

Sure, he could barter… in _English._ And based on the little old man finishing up a transaction with another customer, there was likely going to be a considerable language barrier.

Thankfully, he felt someone step up beside him and looked over to find Ziva peering into the glass case.

"Those look nice," she commented as she dug into the bright orange snack bag in her hand, pulling out what looked like a pale cheeto puff and popping it in her mouth.

"I like that one," he pointed to one of the ones in the middle, a simple brown leather band with a white and silver aviation face.

She nodded, popping another cheeto in her mouth, "You should ask to try it on. See how it looks."

"I was kinda hoping you could help me with that, Miss jack of all languages."

She rolled her eyes as she dug another cheeto out of the bag and offered it to him.

"What's that?"

"It's Bamba."

He eyed it warily, "What the hell is Bamba?"

"Just try it," she insisted.

He continued to stare.

"If you do not try it, I'm not helping you."

He sighed, "You drive a hard bargain."

He carefully took the food out of her hand, taking a tiny bite. He had a brief moment of panic when his taste buds detected peanut butter instead of the cheesy powder he had been expecting. But as he continued to chew, he came around.

"Wow."

"Good, right?" She smiled as she handed him the bag and went to talk to the shop owner.

In the few moments it took for her to locate the old man and bring him back to the glass case, Tony wolfed down half the bag of Bamba. And when he handed it back to her after she returned, he was greeted with the appropriate glare before she leaned over the case to show the man which watch to get.

Tony was surprised at how heavy it felt once it was on his wrist. He squinted down at it, noting that the name was spelled correctly, and all hands seemed to be moving properly.

"Looks good on you," Ziva said as she shoved more Bamba in her mouth.

"Do you think it's fake?" He whispered back, though it was likely an unnecessary precaution considering the man showed no sign of understanding a word they were saying.

"This is a flea market, Tony, not Chinatown," she leaned over the case again, "And if it were fake, he would be charging entirely too much for it."

He craned his neck to see what she was talking about. Below the space where his watch had been sitting, there was a white index card with two rows of numbers. The first ones made little sense to him, but the second ones caused his heart to skip a beat: $11,000.

"Holy," he muttered as he looked down at the little device.

Ziva started talking to the seller again, seeming to ask him a few questions. Then the man pointed at Tony's wrist.

"Take it off," Ziva instructed him, and he did so slowly before handing it to the seller.

The man flipped it over, removing the metal backing and pointing to a tiny engraving on the movement. The word _Cartier_. Then he put the backing on again and turned the watch back over to point out the polished blue stone adorning the winder.

All signs were pointing to the watch being genuine. And therefore very much worth $11,000.

"Well, there goes that," he muttered.

"You do not want it?" Ziva asked.

He shrugged, "I want it. But I'm not dropping 10 grand on a watch."

She reached up and took the device out of the man's hand, turning it over a few times as she carried on some kind of conversation with him. Tony reached for the bag of Bamba which she had tucked under her arm and made it easy for him to slid it out and start chowing down.

At some point, he saw her reach for her credit card. She held it up as she continued chatting. And the next thing Tony knew, she was handing over the card and the man was walking back over to his cash register.

"Uh… Ziva?"

She turned back to Tony, a carefully placed mask of innocence on her face, "What?"

"Care to explain why it looks like you're buying an $11,000 men's watch?"

She shrugged, purposely avoiding his eyes as she looked around the little shop.

The man returned, handing Ziva her card along with a glossy black box and a stark white receipt.

"Toda," she smiled at the man as she handed him back a signed receipt.

The guy retreated, and Ziva carefully placed the watch in the velvet lining of the box. Then she closed it and held it out to Tony, the innocent look still in place.

He shook his head, "I can't take that."

"Oh, come on, Tony. I got it for nearly half off. A bargain, really."

"That's still like $6,000, Zi. I can't take that."

She shrugged, "Oh well. I suppose I'll have to find some other handsome man with expensive taste to give it to. Any suggestions?"

She maintained eye contact with him now, knowing that if she just waited out his internal conflict, he would give in. It was a simple test of wills, and Tony was not known for having a backbone when it came to luxury accessories.

"Fine," he grumbled, wiping his hands on his pants before taking the box.

She smirked at him as she took the bag of Bamba.

"You… seriously didn't have to do that," he sighed as he opened the box and got another look at his new friend.

She just shrugged, "Consider it a thanks for last night."

"Why thank you, Mrs. 2E, but you don't have to thank me for having sex with you. It really is my pleasure."

"And mine as well. It's not just for the sex, but for your… attentiveness during. You would be amazed a how few men realize that foreplay works both ways."

His eyebrows hit his hairline as he realized what she was talking about, " _That_ is also my pleasure. And if you plan on buying me expensive gifts every time I do it, you're gonna go bankrupt."

She chuckled, "It would be money well spent."

"But seriously, Zi. I'll pay you back for this. Someday."

"Okay, how about this: you buy us another bag of Bamba and we'll call it even."

"Just one bag?"

She shrugged, "One bag… or 10 bags. Whatever you want."

She grabbed his hand again and started pulling him out of the store, leading him across the alley toward the place she had bought the original bag.

They were almost there, so close that he could practically smell the peanut butter goodness when they heard someone yelling.

"Ziva!"

Tony thought the voice sounded familiar and based on the way Ziva completely froze beside him, he figured he had been correct.

"Ziva! It's great to see you again! I did not know you were back in Israel."

Tony spoke up first, "Adam Heshel. Long time no see."

"Not terribly long, Agent DiNozzo. But it is always a pleasure."

Tony didn't miss the way the Shin Bet officer's voice changed when he realized Ziva wasn't alone.

"Hey, Adam. My trip was very last minute. I did not tell anybody that I was coming."

Adam looked around for a moment, "Am I interrupting something? Are you two working?"

Tony laughed, and it earned him a sideways glare from Ziva.

"No. We are not working. In fact, our team at NCIS is on a bit of a… hiatus at the moment," she explained.

"Why? Did something happen?"

Tony laughed again.

"We are sort of under investigation at the moment," she explained.

"All of you?"

"Well, it is… complicated. We turned in our badges."

"Wow. That does sound complicated. Is there anything I can do to help?"

"I think you've done enough," Tony mumbled, earning a less sideways glare.

"What does that mean?" Adam asked.

Ziva sighed, "Just that there was a time in the investigation when our… _relationship_ came to light."

Tony hated the fact that she used the word relationship. It made the back of his neck burn.

"Oh? I hope it did not cause you too much trouble?"

"Oh, no. Not too much. It was only a threat to national security," Tony commented.

At this, he felt Ziva's fingers slip out from between his. But it reminded him that she had, in fact, been holding onto him up until that point. _Take that, Heshel._

"But it is fine now. Water beyond the ridge," Ziva finished for him.

"Under the bridge," Tony corrected.

" _Whatever,_ " she said, exasperated, "It is in the past. And there is no point in dwelling on it."

He got the distinct impression that she wasn't only talking about the trouble being in the past. She was trying, albeit subtly, to remind him that the whole thing with Adam was in the past and that he didn't need to be jealous about it anymore. After all, it was Tony holding her hand, Tony sleeping in her bed, and Tony holding a ridiculously expensive watch that she bought for him simply because he liked it. And when he thought about it that way, he found himself feeling a little bad for the young officer. No matter what Adam's feelings were for Ziva, it still must hurt to have gotten a taste of something so amazing, only to be beat out by an old white guy.

"I hope you are right. And if it ever becomes an issue again, please don't hesitate to let me know. The last thing I want is to cause you trouble, Rotzecha."

"I know, Adam. Me neither," Ziva smiled as she pulled her friend in for a hug, and Tony was relieved to find that the action didn't upset him at all. Jealousy seemed so foolish all of a sudden.

When the two pulled apart, Adam looked down at his watch.

"Well, I need to get going. I have a date tonight," he gestured in Tony's direction, "I assume you do as well."

"Actually, Tony and I are going to Aaron's for Shabbat."

"Wow. I haven't seen Aaron in years. I suppose the girls are getting big now, huh?"

"Yes. They just turned 9. And they have a son now. Noah. He's almost 2."

Adam shook his head, "What a meschugener. A wife. Kids. A desk job. Doesn't he know that people like us aren't cut out for it?"

Ziva shrugged, "Something I think he had the right idea, and perhaps _we_ are the crazy ones."

"Careful. If you keep talking like that, you are going to end up a family woman."

"Stranger things have happened," she mumbled.

"Well, please tell them I said hello. I'll have to catch up with the Cohen Clan soon," Adam smiled back down at his friend, "You take care of yourself, Ziva."

"You too, Adam."

"Goodbye, Agent DiNozzo."

Tony waved, "See ya later, Heshel. We'll get around to that pickup game someday."

The farther the Shin Bet officer got from the couple, the larger the smirk on Tony's face got. Finally, he turned back to look at Ziva.

Her eyebrows scrunched together when she saw his expression, "What?"

He shrugged, "Nothing. I just… I finally understand why you slept with him."

"What do you mean?"

He shrugged again. There was really no point in him sharing his revelation. If she didn't see that Adam was simply a younger, more Jewish version of Tony and that was clearly why she sought him out for comfort after her father's death, then he wouldn't bring it up. Adam Heshel was like DiNozzo Lite. And she had finally moved beyond that to the real thing. Why keep discussing the opening act?

Of course, his silence annoyed her, and she soon turned around to continue her search for more Bamba. He followed her to a table in one of the stalls and watched as she started sifting through the mountain of snacks on it, occasionally shoving a bag in his direction for him to hold.

Eventually, Tony decided to speak up again, "Adam knows Maya?"

"Sort of. He more so knows Aaron, her husband," She shrugged a bit as she spoke, "The three of us served together."

"You mean in the IDF?"

She nodded.

He waited a moment, half expecting her to elaborate. But of course she didn't, he continued, "You never really talk about your service. Why is that?"

She paused, looking over at him with a strange expression before continuing her snack search, "I guess I am just not used to talking about it. The majority of my work was classified."

"Classified seems to be an underlying theme in your life, huh?"

"Yes, I suppose that is what happens when you are raised to have a particular set of skills."

Tony smirked, "Taken. 2008. 'I don't know who you are. I don't know what you want. If you're looking for a ransom, I don't have money. But what I do have is a very particular set of skills. Skills that make me a nightmare for people like you.'"

She shook her head, laughing quietly at his bad impression.

"I am surprised you caught that. You normally do not notice when I quote movies to you."

"That's because you normally quote them wrong, David. Even that one was less of a quote and more of a reference. But A for effort."

"Whatever. Point is, I was raised to be a soldier. The IDF was not ignorant to that fact. So I was recruited to perform classified missions," she shrugged at the end of her statement, giving Tony the distinct impression that she didn't really want to talk about this anymore, so he lightened up.

"So you were a super spy before you were a super spy. That's spy-ception."

"And you were a cop before you were a cop. It's called a career, Tony."

He watched her dig around in the brightly colored packages for another moment before carefully reaching for her wrist. She stopped her search and looked over at him, her guarded expression quickly melting away.

"You know I didn't mean anything by that, right? I don't ask questions about your past to dig anything up. I just like learning about you, Ziva."

"I know that. I am just still getting used to this…" she gestured vaguely, and he watched that little crease between her eyebrows deepen as she tried to find the words she was looking for, "... this openness thing. With you in particular."

He waited, knowing that she was sifting through words, probably spanning between a few different languages trying to articulate what she was thinking.

Finally, she swallowed, "Look, I do not talk about these things, my friends, my family, my _past_ , not because I do not want to share them. I love my Aunts. I loved my mother. I served my country, and I am proud of that."

"As you should be," Tony insisted.

"It is just that all of these… things… these pieces of my life from before I moved to the states… I do not talk about them because I do not feel like I have the right to," She turned back to the table of snacks and resumed her rummaging, though it was admittedly a half-hearted action now.

"You don't think you have a right to talk about your life?"

"I do not think I have a right to talk about _this_ life. The one I had here. You know, the one I left behind."

"Doesn't seem like it left you behind," he muttered.

"Yeah," she sighed, "Which only adds to my guilt on the subject. Things are so different in the States. _I_ am different there. I guess I have always struggled to reconcile the two versions of myself, so instead, I just kept them separate. Israel was Israel. America was America. And the two Ziva's were never to cross, lest they end up not liking each other."

"But they've crossed before, right? I mean, your friends seemed to know a lot about your life since you moved. And your Aunts. Hell, Schmiel visited you."

"Well yes, they have crossed… to an extent," she grabbed another orange bag and held it out for him, taking the opportunity to meet his eyes for the first time in a couple of minutes, "but not nearly as much as they are right now."

He tried to decipher her expression, but he came up empty. It left him feeling unsettled.

"You're not…"

The way he trailed off in the middle of his question must have amused her, because a familiar smirk spread across her lips as she turned back to the table.

"Regretting inviting you?"

When he didn't respond, she stopped to look at him again.

"No, Tony. I do not regret _anything_ that has happened since you arrived. I like having you here."

He looked at her for a long moment, taking in the way the way the Israeli sun reflected off her hair and somehow made her eyes shine in a way he swore he never saw back home.

"I like being here," he told her.

She smiled at him, shyly at first before letting it grow into her typical teasing one, "You are just saying that because here you get expensive gifts."

He thought about objecting but didn't find it necessary. She clearly meant it to be a joke.

So he chose to join in.

"And sex."

"Yes, of course. Who could forget about the sex?" She flashed him a quick wink before holding up a blue and green package, "Mint Oreos. These are _impossible_ to find here. The girls are going to love them."

And with that, she grabbed his arm and dragged him toward the check-out so they could pay for their snacks.

* * *

 **Hi! The author's note has moved down here. Don't ask why. It just has.**

 **So if you're someone who keeps up with my other stories, you were probably expecting a Revelations update this week. Well, I would have done that, but last night I came up with a completely different concept for the chapter I was going to post there, so I will be reworking it and hopefully posting it next week (though it will be midterms so I might have to wait until the week after).**

 **But I wanted to post something, and I've been sitting on this one for a while thinking I would just hold off until I was done with the other story. But what the hell, why not go ahead and post it? Everyone could use a little fluff, right?**

 **SO yeah, just one thing I want to say about this chapter: I didn't mean for the watch thing to make it seem like either of them are materialistic or anything like that. I just think Ziva likes to spoil the people she loves, and she's always sort of held back when it came to buying Tony things. Plus, she likes to stake her claim. And a fancy watch is a much better way of doing that than that horrible hospital bracelet Jeanne bought him (sorry, I was rewatching season 4 recently and honestly that bracelet thing was just so ugly I can't. Cute idea, bad execution).**

 **Also, if you're wondering what Adam called Ziva, wait a second. It will be addressed next chapter.**

 **Reviews are loved and appreciated and make me feel like a happy little writer who wants to continue giving our babies a happy ending.**


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